Feel the Burn
by Nightmare on Paper
Summary: In a world where Bella never came to Forks, a girl who more than exceeds the definition of 'weird' arrives to live with her grandparents. How will the Cullens deal with this anti-social and semi-psychotic newcomer who likes her secrets to stay secret?
1. You Know What They Say About Assuming

Summary: In a world where Bella never came to Forks, a girl who more than exceeds the definition of 'weird' arrives to live with her grandparents-- and she doesn't give a flying fig about vampires, real or not. How will the Cullens deal with this anti-social and semi-psychotic newcomer who seems more than happy to drive off anyone who comes too close?

Disclaimer: I only own Philomena Morgan and her family, but that's as far as it goes. The Twilight series and all its characters belong to Stephanie Meyer, and any other mentioned media or characters or sayings that you will probably recognize are not mine.

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Well, it was finally official: my life sucked. Call the press and declare a national fricking holiday.

I banged my heels childishly against the floor and twisted around to look over my shoulder again, still not seeing Grandpa anywhere in the sea of humanity. I _hated_ waiting-- especially in unfamiliar places with even more unfamiliar people who can't seem to register the concept of 'staring is RUDE'. Like the kooky-looking woman in pink on the next bench over, who was currently 'discreetly' staring at me from over the top of a People magazine. I can't for the life of me figure out what is so fascinating about staring at a teenage girl with about eight different piercings in each ear and enough necklaces, bracelets and rings to make a phony fortune-teller cry. It couldn't be the black T-shirt with 'The World is Going to Hell and I Am Driving the Bus' splashed on the front or the jeans I'd sewed random things on and doodled all over in my boredom. It had to be my shoes' fault. My plain old ratty white and gray sneakers with absolutely nothing noteworthy on them. That she couldn't even see.

Hello, Denial, how are you this fine evening? Say, did you know there's a river in Egypt named after you?

I pulled a grotesque face at Mrs. I-So-Do-Not-Have-A-Staring-Problem, sticking out my tongue and crossing my eyes. She gasped and gave me a deeply offended look before hiding behind her magazine. Huh, imagine that. You'd think I was being rude or something...oh well.

"Hey there, Susie Q!" a (thank God!) familiar voice boomed behind me as a hand clasped my shoulder. I tipped my head back to grin up at my Grandpa Bob's craggy face, crinkled in a friendly smile. "What's new?"

"Not much," I said companiably, and leaned down to pick up Rosie's kennel. She whined pleadingly and wriggled, her tail thumping against the walls of her cage in her eagerness to get out. I poked a finger through the wire to assure her, which she immediately began to gnaw on. I frowned and tugged my finger back-- I had forgotten that she was still teething. Heck no was the Demon Dog going to sharpen her little fangs on my flesh and bone (any more than I could help). I handed her up to Grandpa and scooped up Puu and Meow-Meow's kennel. Meow-Meow cracked her eyelids open, uttered a hoarse mew, and then laid her head back down. Puu didn't even stir from her position curled up at her older friend's side. At least they weren't trying to tear each other apart, which happened more often than not when they got crammed too close together.

"Ready to go, Phil?" Bob asked, shifting Rosie's kennel to a more comfortable fit in his hand. I glanced at him fondly, idly wondering if he'd gotten shorter or if I'd actually gotten taller. Considering I was barely five foot one, that was saying something.

"Yeah, I'm ready," I assented, swinging my knapsack onto my right shoulder. Grandpa strode back the way he came and I started to follow, then stopped and looked back over my shoulder at the nosey woman. Unsurprisingly, I had caught her staring. Again. I blew a raspberry at her and scrambled after my grandpa, snickering as her dumbfounded expression registered in my head.

The car was new-- from what I could remember, Grandpa and Grandma used to have a silver Buick, not a purple whatever-it-was. A Honda? Was that it? I squinted at the rear fender, irritated at myself for taking my contacts out before napping on the airplane. Would it be worth finding out after digging through my luggage in the middle of the parking lot for my glasses? No, it wasn't like I spoke car anyway.

The luggage was tossed into the trunk, my evil little pets were strapped down securely in the back seat, and I was sitting in the front with Grandpa, more than ready to get out of the little outcropping of hell called an airport. I grinned as we veered out of the parking lot and onto the highway, heading straight into the heart of my new home (for a while, anyway).

_Good God, who swallowed the rainforest and threw it up in here?_ I thought with a grimace ten minutes down the road. I had forgotten how damn _green_ Forks was. The verdant color dominated over nearly everything else, muting out the browns and grays. I was a country girl born and raised, and while I liked green as much as the next person over, I preferred the softer colors that didn't induce fits of wanting to gouge my eyeballs out. Or get the paintball guns and go wild so it would at least be a bit more interesting to look at.

"Hey, there's your school!" Grandpa pointed out cheerfully, gesturing out the window to my side of the car (which subsequently caused us to veer alarmingly close to the side of the road and forced my heart to do a highly uncomfortable and amazingly correct rendition of turning over in my chest). I turned quickly to look out the window so he wouldn't see my big-eyed expression of panic, and caught a fleeting glimpse of a squat gray building that crouched sulkily against the concrete. Yikes; that wasn't exactly promising. It looked like one of those freaky possessed buildings that grew fangs and turned its windows into creepy glowing eyes, then started murdering people and sticking their bodies in the basement. Or in this case, the janitor's closet.

"It's...nice," I said reluctantly, not wanting to outright disparage the possessed penitentary just yet. After all, it might be all rainbows and fluffy clouds and Hello Kitty sparkliness on the inside. But then I'd have to steal a wrecking ball and destroy the damn thing, because there was no way in hell that I was going to go to a cutesy-kitty school. Give me a cheesy horror movie prop any day over _that_ torture.

Besides, there was always the off chance it really _was_ possessed. Then it would just eat me, and not torment me with sparkly evilness.

And people said I had no imagination. Honestly.

We turned up a small hill into a gravel driveway and I smiled crookedly when I saw my grandparent's tan and brown one-story house, nestled in a corner where a section of the hill had been removed. The rock wall that I vividly remembered our whole family helping Grandpa create ran along the part of the hill that the house didn't occupy, stretching out and a few feet beyond his dark brown workshop that was parallel to the house. Another, smaller rock wall that came up almost to my knees was across from the larger wall, hoisting up a strip of earth that had several strategically planted trees, two of them apple trees, and a flower garden that ran along the side of the house. Beyond that and down the hill was the rhubarb garden and their prized chokecherry bushes, which were taken the utmost care of, and used to make Grandma's completely awesome rhubarb bars and chokecherry jelly.

More importantly, it looked like home.

The car came to a stop inside the darkness of the garage and I unbuckled my seatbelt, my hands shaking a little from exhaustion. Airplane seats weren't exactly the best place to catch a snooze from all the uncomfortable angles the chair made you bend at, but I wasn't about to be rude and drop my seat back into someone's lap. That wasn't at all nice-- not to mention completely embarassing, because I'd know that someone was staring at me while I was trying to fall asleep. Creepy...

"We're here," Grandpa declared, and killed the engine. "Come on, let's get your stuff and your critters in the house."

"They're not 'critters'," I huffed, sliding out of the front seat and opening the back door. "They're evil little demons who destroy everything in sight and then give you a big innocent-eyed look that warps your brain into cuddling them and forgetting about ever punishing them."

"Well, don't tell your grandmother that," he advised, pulling my two suitcases out of the trunk. I was already at the door, pet carriers in hand. Rosie howled frantically, scratching at the wire and making horrible grating sounds with her nails. Shoot, I'd have to clip them soon too, and claim yet another bunch of battle scars from grooming my dog. I just had to make sure she didn't scratch my forearms this time. It was embarassing as hell to be hauled off to the counselour's office in the middle of class because someone had seen the fresh scratches on my arms and freaked out. After at least twenty minutes of getting lectured on the dangers of self-harm, I still hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, and the whole mess had escalated until the principle called Mom and Dad in. Honestly, how was I supposed to know Rosie would freak out so badly when I gave her a bath for the first time?

"Hush, you," I told my dog sternly, set her kennel down, and then knocked loudly on the door before pulling it open and stepping inside. "Grandma, I'm home!"

_Here's to new beginnings and hoping I don't screw myself over too badly._

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_It's possessed. I KNOW it's possessed. If it even thinks about trying to eat me, I'll set it on fire_, I thought grimly, clutching my bag closer to my chest and glowering warily up at the penitentiary where I would (hopefully) finish up my last two years of high school. I only had so many relatives that lived near high schools that would be willing to take me in, after all. I glanced back over my shoulder at the disappearing taillights of Grandpa's purple whatever-the-hell-it-is car before stiffening my spine and forcing myself to march into into the Source of All Evil.

On the plus side, it _wasn't_ all rainbows and fluffy kitties on the inside. Rats, there went my fun with a wrecking ball!

Thankfully, I'd arrived just after the first bell had rung and there weren't very many people around to gawk at me like they always seemed to do. I approached the receptionist's desk and fidgeted in front of it for a few seconds, wondering if I would actually have to open my mouth and admit I was there. Fortunately for me, she looked up and gave a little jump and startled 'oh' when she saw me standing there, stark and plain as day.

"Hi," I offered after an awkward pause. "I'm the new student."

"Ah, yes," she said, shuffling a few papers nervously. "Miss, er, Morgan..."

Why the hell couldn't people just say my name and get it over with? Although there were times I wanted to cuss out the great-aunt who had insisted on naming me, it was still my name and for God's _sake_, it's not like Philomena was hard to pronounce.

"Just call me Phil, ma'am," I interjected flatly. "Everybody else does."

Everybody who didn't think I was psychotic freak, anyway. Wait, that was just about everyone outside my family! Damn, I needed to get a life...

"Right," the woman agreed dubiously. "Anyway, here's your schedule and a map to your classes," two white pieces of paper was thrust into my hands, "and a slip for all your teachers to sign. Make sure you get it back to me at the end of the day, alright?" she finished sternly.

As if I'd run off with the damn thing. Oh yes, that's me-- Philomena Morgan, stealer of slips and all-around poodle snatcher. Fear for your lives, people. Nonetheless, I nodded my head like the good little drone that I was and trotted off to the first level of Hell.

I followed the map to my first class (English) and paused outside the door to collect myself before I walked in front of my so-called peers and the teacher-- Mr. Mason, I noted from the nametag on his chest. His jaw dropped when I thrust my slip at him and stared back expectantly....Come to think of it, everybody behind me was gaping too.

Okay, maybe wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed 'I Hate You All. A Lot' and Goth eye makeup was not exactly Good Impression material. Well, tough break. I had to let them know where I stood and not to expect miracles, a.k.a. me being nice and not my total-bitch self to everyone who so much as crossed their eyes at me. Though for the sake of Grandpa and Grandma's continued health in their old age, I would try not to make a lot of scenes like I did back home. I didn't want to think about what would happen to their blood pressure if they got a call from school informing them that their granddaughter had stuffed someone into a trash can and rolled them into the girl's locker room for calling her a crazy skank. Not that that had ever actually happened. Really.

...Ahem. Back to reality.

"Um...there's a seat in the back," Mr. Mason ventured timidly. What, was he afraid I was going to bite him? I'd only do that if he stuck his finger in my face. Actually, that was the one thing I didn't get in trouble for last year because I'd managed to pass it off as a reflex action. Needless to say, that girl whose name I could never bother to remember had never stuck her perfectly manicured digit in my face ever again.

"Thanks," I said absentmindedly, and made my way to the back of the room to my desk. Mentally, I filed Mr. Mason under the 'scared of the shadow I cast' section that I used for certain teachers that I tried to be nice to, if only to avoid lawsuits about giving them heart attacks. The two others were 'too nice for your own good' and 'you really need to pull that stick out of your ass'. Hopefully I wouldn't find too many instructors that I had to put under the latter file.

"Alright, class, turn to page 219, we're going to start on Macbeth today..." I flipped open the book he'd given me and ignored everything else he said as I began to read. I'd already read pretty much everything by Shakespeare, but it never got old all the same. Even if my now-official scaredy-cat teacher called on me to answer a question (which was unlikely), I'd already read Macbeth front to back and back to the front again. Shakespeare was just plain awesome to me, and I'd more than happily deck anybody who said otherwise.

The bell rang just as I finished Act III, Scene V, and I shut the book with a content noise. It was a good enough place to leave off that I could finish it later without too much trouble in the form of Good Samaritans and Annoying Nuisances.

"Hey--"

Speak the devil's name and he shall answer.

"You're Philomena Morgan, right?" asked a lanky boy with acne and black hair that was as greasy as yesterday's cold pizza. I could have banged my head on the table for jinxing myself, but refrained on the grounds that I didn't want brain damage on my first day of school.

"I dunno. You tell me," I returned dryly, shifting my books to a more comfortable fit in my arms and shoving in my chair with my foot. "Can I help you?" I addressed a little blonde girl who had turned around to stare at me with big eyes a trifle sharply. She blushed and shook her head furiously before scurrying off.

"Wow. So, Philomena...that's kind of a mouthful," Mr. McStork, as I had named the lanky boy in my head, chattered as he bobbed along beside me as I hurried out the classroom door to my next torture session-- oh, excuse me, I meant class.

"My friends call me Phil," I said, wondering what I had done in my past life to deserve this. I was probably a mass murderer, or an arsonist...or a mime.

"Really?" Mr. McStork asked, seemingly delighted for some odd reason. I eyed him warily out of the corner of my peripheral vision and decided to throw him a bone and run for it, or else I'd never shake him off.

"Well, they would if I had any friends," I amended dismissively.

"Oh," he said, obviously not knowing what else to say. What did he want me to do, lie? It was the cold hard truth that I had never made a friend outside my family. The little snot-nosed brats I went to school with had thrown all kinds of hissy fits when we were younger because I found books a hell of a lot more interesting than sitting around gossipping and giggling over older boys, never mind that we hadn't even hit the double digits yet. And God, when those little shits hit puberty? They hit it with a _vengeance_. Drama, drama, and more drama, that's all my old high school was.

"Well, I'm Eric," Mr. McStork chirped in a heartfelt, but still transparent effort to change the 'painful' subject.

"Well Eric, since you've already introduced me to myself and I try not to get in the habit of repeating what other people say, I'll say thank you and see you later," I stated calmly, before abandoning dignity to the winds and taking off like Severus Snape confronted with shampoo. Screw tact-- if I didn't shake him off now, I never would.

The rest of the morning passed in a similar manner-- I was approached by a hopeful at least once every period and did my best not to be rude, but I wasn't exactly friendly either. The only hitch was when the Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, made me stand up in front of the class to introduce myself and earned himself my undying enmity for all of eternity. I vowed to be as much of a smart-ass as possible in his class now that he had landed himself a prime spot in my 'you really need to get that stick out of your ass' file.

By the time lunch had rolled around, I had successfully dodged all attempts to be friends with pretty much anyone without ruffling too many feathers. I was fairly proud of myself as I sat at an empty table and took out my lunch that I had packed last night. No murder attempts, no catfights, no sobfests....I was doing good. I might actually make it here.

Famous last words.

A perky girl from my Spanish class plonked herself next to me, introduced herself with a name that I promptly forgot, and immediately began gossipping about whatever lonesome tumbleweed thought that crossed her fluffball brain. I ignored her for the most part, nodding and 'uh-huh'-ing when she paused for breath, and tried to keep my brain from disentegrating in the general airheaded-ness of the conversation. I'd just pulled out my bottle of water and was debating if I could committ harakiri with only one participant and the blunt end of a bottle when I looked up and saw them.

I tilted my head and gazed at them with the morbid fascination I reserved for roadkill and sitcoms. They were all exceptionally attractive and pale, but they looked like they hadn't had a decent night's sleep in the last ten years or so. There were two girls and three boys-- the largest boy had curly black hair and a cheerfully youthful grin, looking like he was meant to be tanned to the point of random people asking him if he was worried about skin cancer. The girl sitting next to him and preening herself had the face and figure that supermodels would commit homicide for, only without the tan-- and she knew it too, from the way she held herself. The second girl, a tiny pixielike thing with short black hair that stuck up in disarray, was seated next to a slender honey blond-haired guy. For some reason my diarrheal mind christened them Peter and Tinkerbell, which I decided not to even think about.

Then my gaze slid to the last boy who had, will wonders never cease, turned his head around to meet my stare. He had messy bronze hair and a lanky build, not unlike Mr. McStork but definitely a lot more graceful and none of the jerkiness of limbs still being grown into. His eyes were a gleaming topaz that were set into what the masses would have termed a 'gorgeous' face. I raised an eyebrow at him, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. My eyes narrowed at him-- was he making fun of my eyebrow? He damn well better not be, it had taken ages to perfect my eyebrow-raising. Those who laughed at my hard work often found themselves taking up the source of their humor with Mr. Spork and me (all very diplomatically, of course).

"Oh," Little Miss Sunshine giggled next to me. I broke my staring contest with the boy across the room and glanced over at her. "Those are the Cullens."

"Mm," I said neutrally, focused on plotting revenge against the eyebrow-disser as I stabbed viciously at my pudding. And let me tell you something, it takes talent to stab pudding with a plastic spoon. Mwahaha, _suffer_, little pudding, _suffer_....

"The three boys are Emmett, Jasper, and Edward. The girls are Alice and Rosalie," my self appointed high school tour guide announced, indicating who was who with a flick of her immaculately kept nails. I really needed to learn her name sometime in the near future-- she seemed like the type of person who'd take serious offense if I couldn't remember it later on. "They live with Dr. Cullen and his wife."

"That's nice," I said absently, rooting through my lunchbag for the pack of Trident gum Grandpa had dropped in on my way out. Now where did it go-- ah, got it.

"Oh, totally." Her name started with a J, I could remember that much. "They're all together though-- Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice." I stopped unwrapping the piece of gum in my hand and _stared_ at her. _What the HELL?!? I may come from what's classified as a hick town, but you have to at least be second cousins to have a relationship like that! At LEAST!! And what the hell does she mean, they 'live' with Dr. Cullen-- oh. Oh, stupid me, they're foster kids. Sheesh, good thing I didn't open my mouth..._

"...think she's their aunt or something," J-something babbled. I frowned as I caught the tail end of her monologue. _Now_ what was she talking about?

"That's nice," I said again, resigned to the fact that there was no escape from the endless stream of chatter that poured from her mouth. As time ticked at the speed of molasses, I was becoming uncomfortably aware of what it was that drove a trapped coyote to gnaw it's own foot off in order to escape its fate.

"I guess so," she said, her eyes narrowed with dislike and jealousy at the table where the Cullens sat. "I don't think Mrs. Cullen can have any kids, though."

_Snap._

Whoops. There went my spoon. Good thing I'd finished my pudding.

"And what's that got to do with anything?" I said mildly, my skin buzzing like a hive of bees had taken up residence underneath my epidermis. The table rattled warningly underneath us and the section of lights above our heads blinked threateningly for a few seconds. "It doesn't affect the kind of person Mrs. Cullen is. If anything, quite a few mothers could take a page out of her book, because it looks like she did a damn good job raising her kids. Give me someone like Mrs. Cullen over women who don't give a flying fig about their kids any day."

"B-but--"

"Look Janet... no, Jackie--Janie? Dammit, what _is_ your name?" I exploded irritably, slapping my hand down on the table in frustration. "And don't lie to me 'cause we go to the same school and I'll find out who you are!"

"It's _Jessica_," she snapped, highly affronted. I had to give her brownie points-- the last kid I blew up on because I couldn't remember his name fell out of his seat and hid under the table. I still didn't like her, though.

"Ah. I knew that," I replied, nodding sagely and popping my forgotten stick of gum in my mouth.

"Weren't you going to say something?" Jessica demanded after a few beats of blessedly sweet silence.

"Was I? Well, there's no point in saying anything if I can't remember what I was going to say in the first place," I murmured, flapping a hand at her. Out of curiousity, I glanced back at the Cullen's table to see Edward (at least I thought it was Edward) watching me with that same tiny smile on his face. I almost raised my eyebrow again, but thought better of it, and simply propped my chin in my hands and stared back at him shamelessly.

"Gorgeous, isn't he? Don't waste your time, though. He doesn't date. Apparently, none of the girls here are good enough for him," Jessica sniffed, obviously nursing the age-old grudge of being turned down. I applauded Edward (was it Edward? Bah, who cared) for knocking the Queen Bee down a few pegs.

Alright, I freely admit that I was still annoyed from the jibe about Mrs. Cullen being barren and her snooty attitude wasn't exactly endearing. So, I decided to have a little well-deserved fun. Besides, I'd been good all day.

"Maybe he just doesn't like twitterbrained shrews," I returned, raising my eyes to the ceiling.

"Wh-what?" she sputtered. Did I just hear a choking sound from the other end of the room?

"I said that must be such a shame for you," I said cooed, batting my eyelashes innocently. "Being turned down because you're such a fluffhead."

"I am not--"

"What are you getting so upset about? All I said was that I'm sure you'll find someone else instead," I protested in wide-eyed obliviousness. Yep, someone across the room either needed the Heimlich maneuver really badly or had really good hearing. "Though you're never going to get a steady boyfried if you always act like you're on the rag."

"Y-you- you FREAK!" Jessica half-shrieked, half-hissed, the color of her face bringing to mind a boiled lobster as she shot to her feet.

"Are you okay, Jessica?" I asked, tilting my head in mock confusion. "I just asked if you'd seen my bag..."

She glared, but she looked like she'd had enough for now. I let her be, satisfied that the thrumming beneath my epidermis had ceased and I had taken vengeance for Mrs. Cullen and my poor talked-off ears.

On my way out, I happened to look over at the Cullen's table. All of them, even the perfect Rosalie and stoic Jasper, were laughing to themselves, and I had a fairly good idea of what they thought was so funny. My eyes lingered on Edward, with his head thrown back and a grin showing plainly on his face, and I felt an inexplicable surge of tender satisfaction as I turned to go.

Like all other unexplained feelings, however, it was ignored.

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However, unexplainable feelings or not, it turned out that Edward Cullen was a jerk of the highest caliber.

I had walked into Biology II after lunch, given the teacher my slip as per usual, and was then directed to the only open spot which was, wouldn't you know it, by one Mr. Cullen himself. I'd turned around, not sure what to expect from him, but I sure as hell hadn't thought he would start _glaring_ at me! Nothing like those pansy-ass glares that Jessica had given me-- I'm talking about literal daggers and bolts of lightning that were attempting to bore into my skull like a power drill through new wood. And when I'd sat next to him, he'd scooted away like I had the Ebola virus-- he hadn't even bothered to be discreet about it either!

Fifteen minutes, I'd gotten heartily sick of his glowering and LOoMing over me (though to be honest, it wasn't that hard to loom over short people like me, but he took it to a whole other level, thus making it LOoMing). I didn't stink, I knew that. I'd made sure to take a shower last night and scrub thoroughly. I raised a hand inconspicuously to my face and sniffed, just to make sure. Nope, no nasty body odors here. So what the hell was Edward's problem?

I glanced at him and saw he was still staring at me furiously before rolling my eyes inwardly and ignoring him again. Was I ugly to him? I knew I wasn't exactly the most attractive person in Forks, but I didn't feel the need to pull a paper bag over my face and break mirrors. Physical appearance couldn't be it-- if it was, he'd have shown some sign of this grouchiness in the cafeteria. After that, I drew a total blank. I know I'd never met him before in my life, so there was absolutely no reason for this blatant hostility.

No reason, but he was doing it anyway.

Whatever reason he thought he had, it was _pissing. Me. __**OFF**__._

I tapped my favorite pen thoughtfully against the desk, scowling at Edward when the familiar buzzing infiltrated my skin once more with a vengeance. The epidermal layer _itched_, and my skin crawled and twitched like it was going to split and peel off. The back of my eyes burned and a pressure began steadily mounting itself in the same place.

This could not be allowed to continue. If I just let him sit there and shred me to pieces with his eyes, he'd think he could get away with it all the time. I pulled a loose sheet of paper from my notebook and began to write, and gradually the pressure began to cease and my skin to settle, though the thrumming still persisted. When I finished, I looked it over and smiled in approval. Then I turned back to Edward and smiled my best 'you are going to regret the day you ever messed with me, you shithead' smile, and stabbed him in the arm with my pen.

Edward choked faintly, his eyes growing as large as dinner plates when I withdrew my weapon of choice and a small bead of blood rolled out of the puncture mark. Funny, I thought I'd stabbed him quite a bit harder than that, but I'd probably just angled the pen wrong. I dropped the note in front of him and smirked victoriously when I heard his low growl of anger after he'd read what I had written. While he had gotten his just desserts today, I would make sure to bring Mr. Spork to my next class with him in case any thoughts of retaliation crossed his mind.

The bell rang shrilly and Edward took off like a shot. Hmmmm...wonder what got his panties in a bunch? Couldn't possibly have been me.

Yeah, I'm a sarcastic little munchkin, aren't I?

I hurried out the door to my next class, which thankfully was not Gym. Due to the 'accidents' that happened nearly every period in my old school (i.e. smacking people in the face with rackets, volleyballs breaking people's noses, concussions from being hit with baseballs...), I was banned from P.E. and that ban had carried over to Forks. The list of injuries had been long enough to scare the faculty into keeping me away from their precious students in Gym while equipped with things like baseball bats and tennis rackets.

Instead, I had been given private tutoring with the school's music teacher on the piano. All the kids in my family learned the piano from a young age and I really did enjoy playing the instrument as opposed to the clarinet, which I had tried in fifth grade. I just didn't have the lung capacity for things like that, unlike certain other people (cough, Jessica, cough).

The music teacher, whose name was Mrs. Ziolkowski ("Call me Mrs. Z, Phil,"), was immediately placed under the 'too nice for your own good' file. We went over what I had already learned in the piano books I had brought along from home, with her asking me to play a song every few pages or so and me complying. She didn't make me use the repeat bars or the codas, so I decided that I had caused enough trouble in school for today and didn't complain or mouth off.

"So how do you like Forks so far, Phil?" Mrs. Z asked, leaning back in her chair as I played 'In the Hall of the Mountain King'. I had decided that I liked her, if only because she actually called me Phil instead of Miss Morgan like the rest of the staff did. Honestly, was my name so offensive to their delicate sensibilities they couldn't bring themselves to say it? They're probably just jealous that they didn't have an awesome name like me. I'd rather be a Philomena than a Jessica or a Katie that seemed so predominant in this day and age.

"Eh," I muttered, gnawing at the inside of my mouth when I hit a sour note and going back to correct it. Damn those F sharps, those were usually the easiest ones to remember. "It could be worse, I guess."

"It'll get better," the music teacher promised. "It's only the first day, after all."

"I don't know what I'll do if I hit rock bottom here," I said quietly, hitting the ending chord. "I've already made at least two enemies, and I didn't even have to _say _anything to Edward Cullen."

"Edward Cullen, huh? He's usually a pretty nice kid, if a little standoffish. Maybe he was just having a bad day," she offered. I snorted softly. Bad day. Riiiiight.

"If you say so," I aquiesced tonelessly as I turned the page and got started on 'An American Hymn'. To be honest, I really was a little hurt. I mean, I hadn't done _anything_ to him, hadn't said a single word or made a single offensive gesture and he went at me full force with his Glare of Almighty Rip-Your-Arm-Off-And-Slap-You-With-It DOOM. Was he upset with me for staring at him? He'd stared back at me and he hadn't seemed to mind in the slightest. I raked my leaky-kettle memory over furiously, trying to think if I'd said something, done something, _anything_, from lunchtime to the beginning of Biology.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Okay, explanation number two: He was the asshat I had named him for and was hiding behind a mask of sweetness while waiting for the perfect victim, a.k.a. new student nobody cares about, a.k.a. ME.

If that was the case, then there was absolutely no reason to feel guilty if I wound up snapping and beating him to death in some dark alley with a rubber chicken and a golf club. But I wouldn't, if only because his siblings might come avenge his death in some grotesque and horrifying way. Usually, siblings sat with their cliques and not their family, choosing to deny they are related to anyone inside the walls of a school. They had to be pretty tight-knit if they sat together every day.

"Hey!" Mrs. Z exclaimed in startled delight. I broke out of my reverie and gave her an inquisitive look. She held up the music for 'Boston' by Augustana that I had brought along, half-hoping that my assigned teacher would let me work on it during my free time. "This is one of my favorite songs! How well can you play it?"

"I'm pretty good at the beginning, but I start fumbling a lot in the middle because of all the tied notes," I admitted shamefacedly, tapping high and low C alternately in distraction.

"Let's hear it," she instructed, and opened the booklet to the first page before settling it in front of me. I obeyed, enjoying the meandering beginning and singing under my breath. I loved this song, hell I loved music period-- not that crap where the singer just screamed incoherently and the guitar was amped up loud enough to blow your eardrums out, I refused to even acknowledge that as music. Chimpanzees on crack and caffeine would probably sound better than that crap.

"_You don't know me, you don't even care, oh yeah_," I sang quietly along with the chorus. "_She said, you don't know me, and you don't wear my chains...oh yeah, yeah...._"

_Snap out of it, Phil. You know things are bad when you start drawing parallels between your life and a song._

As mortifying as it was to stumble through the third (and longest) verse, I made it with a few shreds of dignity intact and ignored the little smile on my instructor's face, not really caring to know what it was that she was thinking. She was nice enough as teachers went, but I wasn't going to push my luck with her. I finished with a thankfully easy ending chord and smiled in relief.

"Not bad at all," Mrs. Z praised. "The middle does need a bit of work, but it'll get better with practice. Is there any other independent music you'd like to bring with you next time?"

"I have 'Fallen' and 'Answer' by Sarah McLachlan, and I ordered a bunch of Vienna Teng sheet music a while back, so it should be here any day now," I told her, twisting in my seat to get rid of the crick in my neck. "I just brought Boston today because I wanted to see if you'd let me work outside the book."

"Ah, I see," she said, her eyes twinkling mischieviously behind her thick-rimmed glasses. "You thought I was some old fogey that would turn up my nose at anything modern and force you to slave away on Mozart and Beethoven over and over."

I didn't know how to answer that, and so settled for an apologetic shrug. She smiled kindly and then glanced at the clock, which I followed. Exactly thirty seconds till the bell rings. Excellent timing. I scooped up my music and stood up to leave, wincing a little as my spine protested the abrupt change in position.

"Don't forget that sheet music," Mrs. Z called out after me as the bell shrieked authoritatively. Did I mention that I hated bells? I just know there's some aliens up there in space laughing and watching the high schoolers run to their classrooms at the chime of the bell like trained rats. They were probably making bets on the ones who got there first, too. I groused under my breath, wondering why I was thinking about aliens when school was finally done for the day and I could get the hell out of here.

I tossed what homework I had in my backpack, slammed my locker and took off out the door. Grandpa had let me take the white pickup that he used to cart rock and other things with to school, trusting me to find the way back home. I thought that was a bit of a stretch, considering the state of my mind, but I'd made sure to memorize the route on the way here this morning and Grandpa had driven ahead to make sure I didn't get lost. Even in a tiny town like Forks, my memory was just that bad.

I spotted my white pickup farther back in the leftmost row and trotted toward it, shifting my backpack farther up my shoulder and digging for my keys in my jacket pocket. I untangled them from my MP3 player's cord and grinned in triumph when I finally pulled them out of the black hole that made up the bottom of my pocket. Seriously, I kept everything in my pockets-- gum, cell phone, car keys, pencils, you name it, I hoard it. I unlocked the door and tossed my bag into the passenger seat and then swore loudly when my cell phone fell out of my pocket. I don't know why I kept the frigging thing with me, it wasn't like I had anybody to call. If I wanted to talk to Mom and Dad, I'd use the phone at my grandparents' house.

The hair on the back of my neck rose when I bent to retrieve my errant phone and I looked up quickly, meeting cold topaz orbs with my own. I straightened up and gave Edward a bright smile, then waved merrily in his direction. If he wanted to be a jerk, that was fine, but I'd carry on being annoying in my own little way (and hopefully getting to stab him a few more times). His eyes narrowed furiously at my nonchalant greeting and his lips turned down in a fierce scowl.

God, but he really was an ass.

Without the slightest change in my expression, I turned my hand so that the back was facing him and lowered all my fingers but the middle one. Edward's face slackened in a stunned expression for the second time today. Laughing at his expression, I climbed into the truck, revved it up, and pealed out of the parking lot toward home.

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Edward glared after the disappearing rear fender of the truck before reluctantly turning to face his smirking siblings. Emmett grinned teasingly and leaned forward as Alice giggled behind her hands and Rosalie trained him with a smug stare. Jasper gave no hint of his feelings in his expression except for a tiny quirking of his lips.

_So that little human is what had you up in arms all hour?_ Emmett's mind voice drifted to him teasingly. _Got to hand it to her, she's got guts._

_I like her_, Alice announced, sounding incredibly pleased about something. Edward resisted the urge to make a face at her vague answer, concentrating on breathing the air deeply in an attempt to clear out all traces of her scent from his lungs. _Mint chocolate and honeysuckle_, he thought absently. _....and lightning._

Philomena "Phil" Morgan was an enigma-- he could hear only the vague murmurs of thoughts in her mind, too faint to hear completely. It was as if she was speaking underwater and he had human hearing, a fact which both frustrated and fascinated him. He had enjoyed her spat with Jessica and how she had risen to Esme's defence and been prepared to get to know her on that basis alone, but when he had caught her scent in biology... it had taken everything he had not to kill her on the spot.

When he'd sat there, stiff as a board and staring furiously at her mane of black corkscrew curls, a distant part of him had noted that the more agitated Phil became, the louder and clearer her thoughts became, like whales coming to the surface of the sea for air. Edward had heard a few less than flattering phrases that were obviously directed at him, and for a moment he'd caught the scent of lightning singhing the air and the inside of his sensitive nose-- and then everything had cleared and her thoughts had dimmed back to their original incoherency.

And then Phil had _stabbed_ him. With a pen, of all things-- and he had actually felt it, she had actually broken his skin. That was shocking enough in itself, as well as worrying. Nothing but a vampire could harm another vampire, and she was human through and through. The venom cooling in the back of his throat now was proof enough of _that_.

"What's this?" Emmett said suddenly, golden eyes dancing when he caught hold of the note sticking out of his pocket that Phil had dropped in front of him after so unceremoniously flipping his world upside down. He dodged his brother's halfhearted swipe and read it aloud with a broad smirk:

_Dear Jackass in the next seat whose name I don't care to know,_

_If you don't stop glaring at me, I'm going to poke your eyes out. Just what is your problem, you buttmonkey? Did you run out of Iviprofin or are you physically incapable of pulling that thirty-nine and a half foot pole out of your ass? If I offend you so much, then say something to me about it-- don't just glare at me like you're a mentally constipated asshat. You asshat._

_Hoping you fall into a pit filled with rabid goats,_

_Your poor partner who is not going to give you her name in case you're a stalker. Which you probably are._

_P.S. Truth hurts, don't it?_

_P.P.S. I hope a llama bites your nose off._

None of the other Cullens could speak for laughing as Edward scowled and was supremely grateful that he was no longer human and could not blush.

At least life wouldn't be so boring anymore.

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Wooooowwwww... that took a long time.

Read and review, please!


	2. It Makes An Ass Out of You and Me

Sorry if I took a while-- my school BANNED from our laptops! GRRRRR, CURSES ON YOU NASTY TECH-HARPIES WHO SIT IN YOUR OFFICES AND PEEP AT OUR SCREENS ALL DAY!!! I was paranoid for a week after that, because you never know when they're spying on you...

On a happier note, thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers!! I honestly hadn't expected to get more than three or four reviews, but WOW!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this-- I drank a chocolate-caramel-pecan cappuchino and wrote a little more than the last half of this chapter on a caffeine high, so sorry if it's a little weird. I scared everyone in my fourth hour class so badly that they forbid me from ever drinking more than one cup of coffee a day XD.

Disclaimer: I own Philomena Morgan, her family and pets, but everything else is the property of Stephanie Meyer and various other people.

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In my history, some days have started off with a bang (in the form of my brother kicking my door down), ice cubes down my shirt (courtesy of my mother), prodding of tender body parts with sharp nails (due to my sister), or an antique cowbell clanging in my ear (also courtesy of my mother). On a rare occasion my dad knocked on my door and called for me to get up and rarer still were the days I was allowed to sleep in. Much to the fiendish delight of my oh-so-wonderful family, I had the uncanny ability to ignore my alarm clock and sleep straight through it's blaring, which in turn allowed them to practice their early-morning sadism on poor helpless little me.

Today, however, was a day that started off with a 'toot', which I had not experienced before.

I would have more than cheerfully let it stay that way, seeing as that 'toot' came out of my cat's rear end, which happened to be right next to my face.

"GAH!!" I sputtered, rolling off the bed and falling to the floor with a spectacular 'thunk'. I swore out loud (thank God for grandparents who don't turn on their hearing aids) and struggled to untangle myself from the sheets. Meow-Meow trotted to the edge of the bed to stare down at me smugly, and crouched to knead her claws into the mattress.

"Goddamned sneaky feline," I growled, still grappling with the covers. "That's the last time I let Alan kitty-sit you when I go to work. You learned that from him, didn't you?"

The evil kitty purred and switched her tail, obviously pleased with herself. I freed myself from the clinging blankets, stood up and threw them on top of her. I ignored Meow-Meow's howl of protest and her mad wriggling in favor of getting dressed after I caught a glimpse of the clock, which read 7:33 and way past time to get up. She'd managed to free herself enough to glower at me when I stumbled to the door of my room, yanking on my left shoe with one hand and brushing my curls with the other.

"You keep that up and I'll put you in the backyard with Rosie," I promised sternly. "We'll see how gung-ho you are about farting in other people's faces then." Meow-Meow tolerated Puu most of the time, but she absolutely hated Rosie. The dog, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of either of the cats, and was all over them as soon as they so much as touched the floor, and sometimes when they didn't.

I breezed into the kitchen and snatched up a package of chocolate fudge pop-tarts that I had managed to convince Grandpa to let me buy in the event that I woke up late with no time to eat breakfast properly. Tearing open the package with my teeth, I grabbed a spare thermos and filled it with coffee, adding three spoonfuls of sugar, cream and hazelnut flavoring. Ah, coffee, the one thing that got me through the day and kept me from assaulting everyone in sight with a mop and beating them like a birthday party pinata.

It had been one week of hellacious torture at school in the forms of five people, one of which wasn't even present. Jessica, who was Numero Uno, was seemingly a closet masochist that had taken to making herself out to be my best friend. Most likely scenario was that she was nursing a grudge from that first lunch and was sticking around to see if she could plot some sort of humiliating revenge on me. Oh, I was just _shaking_ in my boots. Really. In the meantime, I just ignored her and her 'subtle' insults that she dished my way.

On a happier note, Jessica had developed a prominent vein on her temple that clearly stood out when she was particularly irritated with me. When I wasn't ignoring her, I took liberal steps in antagonizing the hell out of her in the hope that one day the damn thing would just _pop_ and I would get to see it. Mwahaha...

Annoyance Number Two: Mike What's-His-Face, as I had taken to calling him in my head, who had apparently seen me stab Edward Cullen (or That Asshat, as I referred to him) in Biology and was now nursing a serious(ly annoying) case of hero worship that had damn well _better not _turn into a crush. He now followed at my heels like a stray puppy-- no, I wouldn't refer to him as a puppy. I liked puppies; they were cute and cuddly and you could play fetch and tug-of war with them, and I most assuredly did _not_ want to cuddle Mike What's-His-Face. I would now refer to him as Mike the Barnacle That Must Be Terminated At All Costs.

It did not help, I thought as I bit a little more savagely than necessary into my pop-tart, that Jessica had a crush on Mike and they now came as a two-for-one deal (translation: whenever Jessica saw Mike tagging along with me, she latched onto the both of us like a starfish trying to pry a clam apart). The two of them talking next to me and constantly invading my personal bubble often forced my brain into commencing emergency shutdown for fear of irreparable damage being done to my brain cells. I abandoned dignity in this case and took off in the other direction whenever the pair of them came at me.

Number Three was Mr. McStork (or Eric, as I had to remind myself. I didn't think he'd appreciate it if I called him by what I thought of as his name), who was by far the least likely to induce fits of wanting to rip my hair out and run around the school screaming "THE IDES OF MARCH HAVE NOT COME!!!". Though that might be a little bland, seeing as I had already done that back in my old school. I had been a little annoyed with my English teacher, because we had spent two months on _Julius Caesar_ and showed no signs of stopping there. That class had been an ENGLISH class, not a JULIUS CAESAR class, and so far that was all we had learned about. Thus I had protested, dressed in a toga and brandishing a plastic sword, in the form of running through the hallways and screaming random lines from the play, as well as bursting into random classrooms and challenging random people 'for the honor of Rome'. When security had finally grabbed me, I had claimed temporary insanity due to the overabundance of Julius Caesar in my schedule. Unable to classify my actions as anything _but_ insanity, the staff had convinced my English teacher to rethink her curriculum in a hurry.

...Anyway, Eric was a nice kid for the most part, but he had some serious staring problems. And I mean serious in the complete sense of the word because I don't think he blinks. Ever. He stared at me whenever I was in staring range, which aside from being incredibly irritating, also pointed to creepy stalkerish tendencies. So I avoided Eric when I could and tried to scare him off when I couldn't. So far there hadn't been a lot of success-- he was too dense to scare properly. I'd have to work a little bit on that, I decided as I sprinted to my truck and revved it up loudly.

Nuisance Number Four: Mr. Varner. I hated that guy with all the force of one of my brother Alan's after-dinner farts (and that was pretty damn forceful, since I could hear and sometimes even smell them when I was on a seperate floor and opposite end of the house). As soon as I found out his address, I was going to stake out his house, egg it, toilet paper it, uproot his mailbox and leave a flaming bag of dog poop on his doorstep. I would be the first to admit I'm no mathematical genius-- quite the opposite, in fact-- but he did not need to rub it constantly in my face. He always called on me, nevermind that I didn't raise my hand, and if I got the answer wrong (which I most often did) he would smirk and condescendingly, with many pointed remarks about stupidity directed towards me, show the class how to do the problem. On the off chance I did get it right, would smirk yet again and make allusions to the fact that I cheated. In retaliation, I blew spitballs at him when he was at the board and laser-pointed rude words on his back, put rubber cement on the seat of his chair, superglued his desk drawers shut and was now making plans to spray-paint his car (once I figured out which one it was).

A few blocks from the school, someone in a blue van pulled out in front of me without so much as slowing down or turning on their blinker. I cursed, slammed on the brakes, laid on the horn and gestured angrily at the moron who got in front of me without so much as a by-your-leave. I thought about riding his ass all the way to school, but dismissed the notion in case Chief Swan was making his rounds early this morning. I had become reacquainted with the good Chief earlier this week in the grocery store after finding him loaded down with instant dinners in the food isle as I was shopping for something suitable to cook, in the hopes I could stop Grandpa from cooking his infamous reuben lasagna. I had a strong stomach, but I really wasn't looking forward to testing that on his Concoction of Evil (that damn stuff had made two of my favorite cousins throw up in their plates).

I only knew Chief Swan by sight and a few hazy instances in my childhood that I could remember playing with his daughter whenever my parents brought me to Washington and she happened to be there. I did remember that she and one other boy from the reservation-- damn it, why couldn't I ever remember their _names_?-- were the only people I had even remotely considered as 'friends', and that was saying something. Nonetheless, the chief had remembered me and had made a point of saying hello whenever we ran into each other. I kind of liked the guy; he was pretty easy to get along with. So I wasn't in an incredible hurry to be put on the 'naughty' list just yet, thank you very much.

I pulled into the school's parking lot with a bit of screeching protests from my brakes and some liberal swearing at the people who wandered in front of my truck. Damn teenagers and their sheep mentality, always having to wander in front of cars driven by wigged-out people who _hadn't gotten to drink their coffee yet_ and would have more than happily run them all over. And then backed up over them again to make sure they stayed flat on the pavement where they belonged and set fire to their corpses and laughed manically while doing the Irish Polka in a poncho and purple stilletos with the little live fishies in the heels.

Hmm, maybe that last bit was just a little bit shy of psychotic...nah, of course not.

I parked and took a drink of my wonderful coffee, relieved that I still had five minutes to spare before entering Forks Penetentiary-- er, I mean the high school. The roar of an engine next my truck made me jump and choke on a mouthful of caffeine before whipping around to look out the window, vowing revenge on whoever had made me lose precious droplets of the Elixir of Life. At the sight of who the culprit was, I damn near jumped out of the car to beat him with the old umbrella I kept beneath the seat.

Annoyance Number Five, Edward Cullen, had parked his stupid shiny car right next to me and was currently smirking-- SMIRKING!! -- at my face from behind the layers of glass between us. Well, not for long, I thought grimly, and groped around in the back seat for something to fling at him. Nothing met my fingers, not a tire iron or a spare rock or even that one little rubber strap with metal hooks on the ends. Curses, foiled again! Damn that stupid son of a biscuit to an eternity in a pit full of-- of Jigglypuffs!

It really was beyond me how Edward could have been gone all last week and _still_ managed to annoy me when he was gone. Every day I'd get all tensed up and ready to give him the smackdown should he start up with his Glare-O-Doom again, and every day he. Was. GONE. Part of the reason he irritated me was because I couldn't understand what his problem was and was therefore more than a little stung that he'd judged me before getting to know me-- usually people waited until after I'd spazzed out on them at least once before running screaming into the night. The much, much, MUCH larger part of me just wanted to spork out his eyeballs and have done with it, which would actually give him a LEGITIMATE reason to hate me.

The bell rang, and I jumped a little, startled from my daydreams of sporking Edward. I downed the rest of my coffee in one go, wincing a little as it burned in my throat, grabbed my backpack and swung myself out of the car, wincing a little as the rain pelted me mercilessly. I didn't see Edward, so he must have headed in before me while I was considering trashing his shiny car in order to wipe that smug grin off of his face. Oh goody, a day where all five of my Nuisances were present.

I sighed, pulled Mr. Spork out of my backpack, and stowed it in my pocket-- better safe than sorry, right?-- and marched into the bowels of Hell.

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"-- and did you see that look she had on her face, ohmigod, it was like, so totally _bogus_--"

I whimpered quietly and thumped my head against the lunch table, praying for unconsciousness, for someone to distract Jessica, for a meteor to hit the school and blow us all to kingdom come, _anything_ to make it stop.

"--there was no I was going to put up with that, I mean like, _hello_, do you know who I _am_--"

"Mmn," I muttered disparagingly, but she prattled on, obviously mistaking my grunt for agreement. In order not to get motion sickness from watching Jessica's motor mouth go at a mile a minute, I stared blankly at the Coke can in front of her. No matter where I tried to escape to after lunch, she always followed me-- the library, the bathrooms, outside, it didn't matter. She was on me like a nasty little tick on a dog, and she wasn't going to let go until she'd sucked a copious amount of blood out. Eeeyuck, disturbing as that was, it was also quite accurate.

The Coke wobbled dangerously against the tabletop. I gazed at it flatly, not really caring (_it couldn't hurt, just this once?_), even as it began to jitter back and forth. The tinny clatter of the can against the table was nearly inaudible in the typical roar of voices in the lunchroom. The space behind my eyes felt pressured, compressed, and they _burned_.

_(i can't make it STOP!)_

"--I mean, did she honestly expect me to put up with that, there's no way--"

_Clang._ I blinked rapidly, the compression behind my eyes vanishing as Jessica's indignant shriek pierced my ears. The Coke can had fallen onto its side, splattering the pop all over the front of her shirt. I winced as her banshee-like screech tore through the lunchroom, fighting the urge to slink bonelessly under the table and hide there until the bell rang. Maybe I'd get lucky and she would forget about me?

Yeah, and maybe I could click my heels three times, fly to Mars and conquer the Martians with an army of man-eating bagpipes while I was at it.

"Did you see that?" Jessica yelped, turning to face me with a completely offended look on her face. No idea why she was so damn put out, it wasn't like the coke had a mind of its own and had suddenly decided that it hated her and would therefore endeavor to make her life miserable by spilling soda all over the front of her white shirt.... which was now showing more of Jessica than I had ever wanted to see in my life. Would she be even more offended if I ran to the bathroom screaming, 'MY EYES, MY EYES!!!'?.... Yes, she would, but it wouldn't be enough to make her stop clinging to me. Damn it, there goes that evil plot.

I blinked innocently at her, making sure to keep my eyes as large and vacant as possible. Mwahaha, payback's a bitch-- especially when she has puppies. "See what?"

"The coke!" she hissed, her face turning an unattractive shade of scarlet.

"What about it?" I tamped down on the smirk that was tugging at the corners of my lips. This was just too easy.

"It fell over on it's own!"

I twisted my hands underneath the table and pinched my arm to keep from laughing outright. _Oblivious_, I reminded myself. "Really? When?"

Hmm, maybe I was pushing it a little. That shade of puce she was sporting couldn't be healthy for anyone's blood pressure...on second thought, there was that throbbing vein again! Screw blood pressure, I want to see that damn thing pop!

"Just _now_!" Jessica all but screamed in her fury as I cackled inside my head and did a scary little dance. Come on-- pop, vein, pop!

"But Jessica, there's nothing happening right now," I protested, careful to keep my 'Zonked-Out Stoner' look, as my sister called it, plastered on my face.

Alright, I'll admit that I had made a mistake at that point in time. I had forgotten one of the fundamental rules I lived by (and occasionally broke) in high school: Don't tease the simple-minded people. They can only take so much stress on their little brains, and when they snap...enraged two-year-olds on caffeine in destructo-mode came to mind in these scenarios (except they were a lot bigger). Hey, I would know, I do babysit every now and then. One set of parents actually had the bright idea to give the damn kids some coffee that was jazzed up with an unbelievable amount of sugar before setting them loose on me, in the misguided notion that they would get worn out just that much quicker.

Four hours, six destroyed pieces of furniture, two drawings on the wall in permanent ink, one completely obliterated dining table, three ambushes with Whiffle bats and Nerf guns and one particularly memorable instance where I was locked out of the house and forced to climb back in through the window, all three of them were out like a light. After unceremoniously informing the parents that they were idiots of the highest caliber and to never contact me again on pain of restraining orders, I swore off babysitting for good.

But as I said, these kinds of tantrums were to be avoided at all costs-- unfortunately for me, I was just a bad karma magnet in general, and therefore had no chance of escape.

"AARRGH," Jessica snarled, face twisted in a demented convulsion of mania. I began to edge back worriedly, eyeing the tray she clutched white-knuckled in her hands. If she took a swing at me, I'd have to run for it, dignity and pride aside. No way was I going to get clonked on the head by a fluffy parasite cheerleader with a lunch tray. The voices in my head would never let me live it down.

"_You_--" she roared, and what she was going to call me I never did find out, because at that moment she hefted her tray like a lumberjack taking a chop at a tree and slammed it right down on top of my untouched chocolate cupcake.

I blinked once. Then twice. Then several more times just to be sure my eyes weren't playing a joke on me. When the horrifying image didn't disappear, I reached out and slowly peeled the tray off of my poor unfortunate confectionary-- that now resembled a nasty cow pie instead of a yummy chocolatey cupcake like it SHOULD have been.

There are two universal rules in my family. One: Mother's word is law and will be carried out, regardless if you have to be dragged by your hair, kicking and screaming.

And two: Never mess with someone else's chocolate. If you do, God help you.

"You killed," I said, eerily calm, "my cupcake." I smiled my most terrifying 'I-will-rip-your-face-off-and-make-you-eat-it' smile, and Jessica paled and shrank back. "I was looking forward to eating that cupcake ALL. DAY. You squashed it and now it is NOT EDIBLE," I got to my feet, still smiling, and began to advance on her. "I can't eat it if it's not edible, and now I have NO CHOCOLATE," at which I got right up in her face. "You know what that means, don't you?"

Jessica shook her head from side to side frantically, edging back and almost falling off the chair. I smiled again, this time my 'enjoying-that-hole-you-dug-for-yourself?' smile.

"This means _war_," I declared, and snatched a cup of orange jello from a passing tray before upending it in Jessica's shiny dark hair.

Jessica's face went from chalky white to a enraged crimson in the span of one point five seconds (seriously, I was going to call her mother and tell her to buy the girl a pacemaker or something, because her poor overworked heart was just going to clock out one of these days-- hopefully not because of me) and she seized a carton of unidentifiable noodle/mystery meat-goop from her tray and hurled it at me. Forseeing this, I hit the floor, and the noodles sailed over my head and landed with a wet and chunky 'splat' directly onto the head of a particularly grouchy-looking junior girl whose name escaped me at the moment. She turned around and saw Jessica, and her eyes spelled murder as she reached up and pulled a glob of what the lunch ladies always tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to convince us was 'food' from her hair.

A beat of total and complete silence encompassed the lunchroom-- and then, true to form and copyright, all hell broke loose.

The unnamed junior grabbed a fistful of ketchup-soaked tator tots and flung them back at Little Miss Motormouth for the perceived insult. Not all of the thrown potato-munchies hit their intended target-- quite the opposite in fact, seeing as she had really bad aim, but the tots had struck enough of the other students for them to have an excuse to start the Great Food Fight of 2009. I mean, seriously, who does _not_ want to start a food fight? I had personally incited a grand total of six of them back in my old school (not exactly a hard thing to do, seeing as everyone hated me anyway), and hadn't been collared for a single one of them.

I grabbed my lunch bag and evaded some flying canned pears by ducking beneath the table and crawling out the other side. Rolling out the from under the chairs and getting grazed by some tuna salad, I filched the remains of my cupcake and darted into the crowd. I was nowhere near done with my payback to Jessica for leaving me stranded in a sea of superficiality and inanity without the magic tolerance that was imbued into me by chocolate. Seriously, it was either chocolate or start tossing back aspirin like they were Smarties.

Pausing to fling a handful of grapes at some rambunctious freshman and giggle manically as they shrieked and covered their heads, I didn't see the milk carton flying at my head until it was almost too late. Big hands suddenly grabbed me around the midriff and dragged me out of the line of fire before the projectile could connect with my cranium. I squeaked (though if anyone else asked, such a thing was physically impossible for me) in shock when I was set down behind a partially overturned table-- when had _that_ happened?-- and saw the golden eyes of Edward Pain-in-My-Ass Cullen's biggest brother. To be fair, he actually looked perfectly friendly when he was grinning like that, so I decided not to tar him with the same brush as his brother just yet. If need be, though, that selfsame brush could always be jabbed into his eye.

"Thanks," I called over the roars of the other students. "That could have been messy."

"No problem," he shouted back. "Nice shot on dumping that jello on the loudmouth girl. I'm Emmett!"

Well, that saved me the trouble of asking what the hell is name was. "I'm Phil, but I'm pretty sure you already knew that!"

"So, what are you going to do with that?" he indicated the squished confectionary still in my hands. I raised my eyebrows and grinned wickedly, an expression which slowly became mirrored identically on his own face when he realized my intentions. Or he could just be humoring the crazy person. Everyone knows you have to keep the crazy people happy or they do crazy things, like stealing all the dodgeballs from gym and gluing them to the ceiling or hacking into the school broadcast system and declaring that they will take over the world with an army of flying monkeys armed with sporks and detailing the lists of laws they would put in action (the outlawing of canned green beans being one of the most prominent among them).

All very hypothetically, of course.

"I am nowhere near finished with Jessica..." I paused for a moment, racking my brain futiley, then shrugging, "Whatever her last name is."

Emmett let out a booming laugh that made some people turn to look at us in scandalized irritation. I scooped up a carton of soggy, dilapidated fruit that had probably been sitting around since 1985 and pitched it at them, making the little gawkers squeal and dart off. That was one thing I loved about food fights-- you could throw anything at anyone and no one would care. My new partner-in-crime snickered with me, and I decided that he was nothing like his little brother. At all.

I pulled myself from those thoughts before thinking about Edward could put me back in a sour mood, but allowed my subconscious to grumble a few expletives in appeasement. Large hands seized me and swung me up in the air onto a broad back as I shrieked indignantly before settling down and peering out over the raucous sea of humanity when Emmett easily stood up under my added weight. Huh, so this was what it was like to be tall...

"You ready?" he asked, tilting his head up so I could see his mischievious smirk.

"Ready for what?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes and debating if he needed to get sporked for stealing my copyrighted Eyes of Pure Evil©.

Emmett pointed through a gap of students busy slinging the noodle-stuff at each other at Jessica, who was engaged in a hair-pulling contest with the blonde she had mistakenly hit before. And how old was she, again?

"Oooo," I murmured, shifting my ruined chocolate goodness to my right hand. "I see. Shall we?"

"Let's," the giant teenager laughed, and he took off. I'm sorry, did I say 'took off'? That's too general-- what I meant is, he blew everyone else out of the water like a turbo speed-boat on legs. Damn, is this what the charge of the Light Brigade felt like? It made me wish we had a fanfare of trumpets announcing our progress.

Jessica must have had some latent preservation instincts that were previously unheard of, because she turned around and saw Emmett bearing down on her like a bull elephant on a mouse-- a very annoying mouse, may I add. She didn't even have time to squeak before Emmett was LOoMing over her (was the LOoM copyrighted to the Cullen family? I'd have to ask, in case I ever had some intimidation on my seven-year-old nephew to do, seeing as I was so damn short it wouldn't work on anyone but small children and midgets) and I was grinning like the maniac most people swore that I was.

"Hiiii, Jessica!" I sang merrily, and smashed the cupcake into her hair with considerable gusto. She emitted the loudest, most piercing shriek I had ever heard in my life, scrunching up her face and batting at her hair hysterically. Emmett's laughter filled the lunchroom along with my own as he carted me away from my ex-leech (Thank you, God!) and now number one enemy.

If I hadn't been laughing so hard, I probably would have noticed just _where_ exactly he was carting me to and started making loud and explicit protests, new buddy or not. But I didn't, until I was deposited, still snickering, on the ground next to the rest of his family. Right next to his girlfriend, in fact.

Can we say 'Yikes'?

Rosalie (and the only reason I remembered her name, which I would never tell her, was that it was so similar to my dog's) stared down her nose at me, perfect features smooth and blank of any feelings she had. I suddenly realized what the situation probably looked like through her eyes-- her man saving me heroically from flying milk cartons (every girl's worst fear, I'm sure) and then giving me a piggyback ride across the lunchroom to smash an already smashed cupcake into another girl's hair.

It must have looked pretty damn crazy to her. She was probably wondering if she would need to sign Emmett up for some professional therapy after all this weirdness.

In reparation, all I could do was offer her my best sheepish look and toe the ground with my foot like a kid waiting for a scolding because they didn't know they weren't supposed to tell Mom that the dress she was wearing really _did_ make her butt look big. Off track, but somewhat accurate, I thought as I peeked up at Rosalie awkwardly. What I didn't expect to see was her golden eyes actually softening and her reaching out to pull a...squelchy piece of pineapple out of my hair. I blinked and stared at the mushy fruit-thing, wondering when exactly _that_ had gotten there. My question must have showed on my face because she smirked and tossed it away.

"It fell out of the container when you started throwing fruit at the freshmen over there," Rosalie explained, pointing out a particularly rowdy group of teenagers and eyeing them with disdain before turning back to me. "I don't believe we've been introduced personally. I'm Rosalie Hale, you know my boyfriend Emmett Cullen," said boyfriend grinned broadly and tugged playfully on my curly mop, earning him a swat from both his girlfriend and I, "and this is my brother Jasper Hale and my sister Alice Cullen." Alice beamed at me, bouncing in place as Jasper nodded his head politely in my direction. "... and you've already met Edward." Who had somehow made himself scarce sometime during the initiation of the food fight and was nowhere to be found. Stupid asshat chicken-wuss.

"Ah, yeah. I suppose he probably told you about that," I muttered, feeling vaguely guilty before reminding myself that their brother should have kept his eyes to himself if he hadn't wanted to start something he couldn't finish.

"Told us?" Emmett snorted. "He hasn't stopped brooding about it since. You're the only girl aside from Alice and Rosie who haven't fallen over their own feet to please him."

That didn't answer the question of what the hell his problem was in the first place, but I wasn't about to ask his family about that. Still, it would be refreshing for Edward to get a reminder that there were actually some girls with self-respect who wouldn't just throw themselves at his feet and beg to have his babies. Blech...mini-Edwards... at least with the way he acted, there'd be a slim to none chance of him actually procreating.

"I think it's good for him," Alice insisted, twisting her head to fix her bright eyes on my face. "Edward takes everything a bit too seriously."

"Including himself?" I said dryly before I could stop myself. I was just about to kick myself for letting my mouth run off without the attendance of common sense when all of them laughed. Honestly, it was quite a pretty sound-- like those tinkly wind chimes that I always half-thought about buying but always wound up forgetting them.

"Yes, exactly," Alice giggled, and for the first time since I'd come to Forks I smiled an actual smile, not any of my patented ones designed to terrify the witless and shut up the blabbermouths. It felt a little weird to do it, but hey, anything for the people who gave me my first actual intelligent conversation in this penetentiary.

The bell shrilled self-importantly overhead and I glared at it out of the corner of my eye, deciding that sometime before I graduated I was going to take a sledgehammer to that thing and knock it right off the wall. A muffled wind-chime laugh reached my ears and I glanced back at Alice, who had her hand pressed over her mouth and her golden eyes were sparkling with suppressed mirth. I raised my eyebrow but decided to leave it alone. If she wanted to snigger about things I didn't understand (I was going to take a leap of faith and say that she wasn't laughing at me, judging from the lack of maliciousness in her expression), then she could go right ahead.

"Guess I'd better go before I'm late," I said apologetically. "It was nice talking to you." And it actually had been, miracle of miracles. I wondered if that made us friends. Probably not, but how would I know anyway? I had never once wanted or needed a friend, but I found the idea of being friends with Cullens kind of appealing. I don't know why, but I just did.

"Oh, and Phil," a low, unfamiliar voice said as I began to walk away. I paused and turned to look over my shoulder, surprised to see that it was Jasper who was the speaker this time. He'd seemed like the silent military guy from the few occasions I'd observed him on.

"Yeah?" I asked curiously.

"Don't mind Edward," the blond teen said gently. "He isn't a bad person, no matter how much he likes to think he is."

"...If you say so," I returned with a roll of my eyes, and continued to class. Jasper seemed to know what he was talking about, but he hadn't exactly been on the receiving end of Edward's Glare-O-Doom for twenty minutes straight and for NO APPARENT REASON. And what did he mean anyway, liked to 'think' he was a bad person? Did Edward run with a gang? _Were_ there any gangs in Forks?

Oh please, I scoffed at myself, annoyed that I had even considered it in the first place. An honest-to-God bunch of car-stealing, motorcycle-riding, drunk-off-their-asses gangbangers in Forks? Pfft, perish the thought.

I walked through the door of the Biology classroom just as the bell rang, earning an irritated look from Mr. Banner which was returned full-force. One reason I didn't like most teachers was because in my mind, they had no business chastising me for anything. They were neither my parents nor were they held high in my regard, which left them in a not much higher position above the students. I simply didn't care what they thought, about me or anything else. The school councillor had once diagnosed me as having an intolerable disrespect for authority-- I had retorted that there wasn't much to respect in the first place, seeing as most of the so-called authority figures were little better than oppressive control freaks armed with a few diplomas and the iron knowledge that they were In Charge.

As soon as I came into view, Edward locked his eyes with mine and initiated a staring contest with me. Hmm, Jasper must have been on to something. The youngest Cullen wasn't looking at me like he wanted to strangle me with my own intestines anymore. Odd, yes, but I wasn't going to complain-- much.

I dropped my books on my side of the table, plopped down in my chair, and proceeded to thoroughly ignore Edward. I still had this morning to think about, after all; nobody interferes with me and my caffiene. This was not an unbreakable law in my home, but it was something of a fact that if you got between anybody and their coffee, you might wind up getting your arm chewed off.

Mr. Banner deposited a microscope and box of slides on our desk before moving on, and I sighed inaudibly. I preferred a straight up worksheet to a lab, but Lady Luck had apparently decided that this was all the good fortune I deserved for today and had clocked out. Damned hag abandoned me just when I needed her, as per usual. I stared despondently at the microscope, hoping it would disappear and go back to whence it came. It didn't, obviously.

Edward reached out for the microscope and I tensed, wondering if he would take the chance to brain me with it while he could still get away. Hmph, well, I had Mr. Spork with me and I wasn't going down without a fight. In fact, I wasn't going down at all if I had my way. It really was too bad that I'd left the mace in my truck, though...

To my disappointment, however, my lab partner only slid the microscope towards me without a single indication of violence. "Ladies first?" he offered in a soft, velvety voice that would make most girls swoon on the spot. Sadly for him, I wasn't most girls.

"Sure," I said emotionlessly, and pulled the scope to me to adjust it before I put my eye to it. Meh, cells always looked like indistinct blobs to me, but as Mom told me, 'Learn it, get through it, then forget about it.'. Those were the words I lived by in high school.

"Prophase," I muttered as I leaned back and then made to pull it out.

"May I look?" Edward asked quietly. I shrugged and pushed the microscope over to his side of the table. He examined it, then nodded. "Prophase," he agreed.

Alright, there didn't seem to be a screamfest on the horizon, I surmised warily as I watched him swap the first slide for the second and study it. He had been perfectly civil so far... would he continue this line of behavior or was he going to snap at the least little bit of provocation? Much as I hated being patient, I would have to wait this one out and see what happened.

"Anaphase," Edward deduced, and wrote it down. I gnawed my bottom lip for a moment, debating the pros and cons of my alarmingly social intended action, and then threw the mental list out the window when I remembered all the people who had avoided me after a single conversation when I hadn't even been _trying_ to be weird. I really did doubt that my lab partner hadn't meant any harm to me-- nobody glares that hard without putting some real feeling behind it-- but I, who everyone had called Freak and Psycho and a whole other onomatopoeia of names, should and did know better than to judge other anyone else for reasons I didn't know about. At the very least I might be able to air out what got him so worked up in the first place, and we could go back to either hating or ignoring each other in peace.

"May I?" I requested, a hand extended slightly toward the microscope. Edward's lips quirked up, his eyes caught between disbelieving and amused, but he handed it over for me to check. Hmm, he was right. It was nice to know that I didn't have a complete dunderhead for a tablemate. I reached for the next slide, jumping a little when he pressed it into my hand. I barely had time to register that his fingers were icy cold before he immediately drew them back, a slight look of chagrin flickering to life on his face before it disappeared. I looked at him and noticed that his hair was slightly damp, indicating that the crazy son of a gun had obviously been outside without a coat on.

"Interphase," I stated after a glance, and nudged the equipment back to him without being asked. Almost unconsciously, my eyes flickered to his left forearm, where I had stabbed him last week. I couldn't see if it was bandaged or not underneath his long-sleeved shirt. Truth be told, I'd been hoping he'd gotten ink poisoning for acting like such an asshat, but now I couldn't help but feel a little-- just a _little_, mind you-- guilty. Not that I'd ever let him know that, of course.

"Metaphase," Edward proclaimed, pushing the microscope in front of me. I checked it absentmindedly, noting that he was right again, before gesturing for him to hand the last slide over. He complied, that strange little quirk still on his lips. Our hands didn't touch this time.

"Telophase," I finished, and set the microscope aside. Awkwardness settled between us like a shroud almost immediately after the last phase of mitosis left my lips. We sat for an indeterminable length of time in stony silence before I risked a peek at Edward out of the corner of my eye. He was staring at me, puzzled frustration written clearly all over his face. I faced him, frowning slightly.

"Say something, dammit," I ordered crossly. "If the tension in here gets any thicker, I'll be covering it in frosting and serving it up on a silver platter."

The golden-eyed boy raised an eyebrow at my tone. "What do you want me to say?" he asked sardonically.

Ooh, bad move. Mr. Thirty-Nine-And-A-Half-Foot-Pole-Up-My-Ass had just given me control of the conversation. I grinned sharkishly at him, and watched gleefully as what he had gotten himself into sank in. "Well, to start off with, why were you acting like a menopausal old woman last week?"

"Ah..." Edward murmured, turning his face away. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't feeling well."

The lame excuse set my teeth on edge, and my hand twitched toward the pocket where I kept Mr. Spork. 'Not well', my ass.

"And just how many times do you think I was dropped on my head as a child, if you expect me to believe that?" I forced through gritted teeth. Any regard that had built up for him during the class had collapsed and went flying to the dark closet of my mind. Did he think I was an idiot or did he just have a low opinion of the intelligence of the human race in general?

"I'm sorry you think that," Edward said coldly, turning back to face me. His golden eyes were glittering like hard jewels. "But it the truth, nevertheless."

I opened my mouth to retort, then closed it, and thought about what he had said. And then I thought a little more, turning the new revelation over in my mind. It all began making sense to me-- the glares, the stiff posture, the almost palpable loathing. But of course, it was the only logical assumption. How could I have not seen it? This explained everything. I turned back to my tablemate, who was watching me warily, and offered him a bright smile before dropping my bombshell.

"Were you constipated?"

Edward sputtered helplessly as I leaned back and watched him with an ever-widening grin. Poor guy, I'd caught him out, and he hadn't even been expecting it. That's what he got for underestimating the awe-inspiring deductive powers of the Morgan family.

"No, I was _not_ constipated," he stressed when he finally regained the power of speech. I gave him a mock-pitying look that clashed horribly with the Chesire Cat smirk on my face. Oh, I was _never_ going to let him live this down.

"Yeah, sure," I snickered, and the golden-eyed teen sighed heavily and dragged his hand over his face in frustration. I decide to cut him some slack for the moment and not tease him any further-- it would probably shock his already fried brain into a Phil-induced coma. He obviously wasn't used to being taunted by anyone other than his siblings. Boy, was he ever in for a wake-up call.

"How's the arm?" I ventured after a moment or two of Edward-angst. And let me tell you, he had some _serious_ angst-y skills. I could only take so many Cullen Clouds of Emotional Wreck. The gorgeous boy lifted his head with a crooked, self-depreciating grin.

"It healed fine, all things considered," Edward admitted, shooting me a narrow-eyed look at the last part. I batted my eyes at him in wide-eyed, sweet-faced who-me? innocence. Ugh, gag me with a spoon. What if my face actually froze like this one day?

"Oh, yes indeed," I agreed cheerfully. "Especially considering that I could have twisted the pen in a little deeper and then broken a chair over your head-- purely for the general effect, I'm sure you understand."

"Right," Edward mocked, rolling his eyes just slightly. "Why did you come to Forks, anyway? Assuming, of course," he added the last bit with a generous helping of acrid sarcasm, "that you didn't come here specifically to irritate me to death?"

What a jerk.

"Oh, _Eddie_!" I lamented dramatically, pressing the back of my hand to my forehead and mock-swooning. His teeth ground together audibly and I witheld a cackle. "How could you think that I could come to this dreary, dismal town for anything other than the brilliantly shining light that is you? Your detriment comes before all else, you know this! Never doubt me again!" I demanded, leaning forward and giving him my best starry-eyed gaze and clasping my hands to my heart. I held the pose for about ten seconds before collapsing into almost silent shakes of laughter, tears sliding down my face from mirth and the completely weirded-out look on his face.

"Alright, seriously now," Edward interjected, a small smile twitching at his lips. I sobered quickly, wiping the tears off my face, though my smile still lingered.

"Well, if we're going to be serious," I drawled. "I was on the verge of getting expelled, and I decided it was best to quit while I was still ahead." I heard a gasp behind me, and turned to fix the girl behind me with a gimlet stare. She flushed and ducked her head, having the courtesy to at least pretend she wasn't listening. I rolled my eyes at Edward, who was frowning once more, that frustratingly puzzled expression on his face.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand," he admitted quietly. I blinked-- what was there _not_ to understand?

"You know how I am at school here?" I questioned, and continued at his nod. "Well, take that and multiply it by a couple thousand, and there you have it."

"And your family?" Edward pressed, seeming strangely intent. What was with this guy acting like my life story was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard? He must not get out much.

"My family's fine, if that's what you're asking," I said irritably, flicking a strand of hair back from my face.

"That's not what I meant," he said, becoming frustrated again.

"Should have said what you meant then, shouldn't you?" I fired off, turning and presenting him with my back and fuming silently to myself. What exactly was he trying to insinuate here, that my family beat me or something. How cliche-- my mother didn't need to beat an unruly child. All she had to do was say a few scathing words and give a single look, and you were crying from utter repentance.

Sneaking a glance at Edward, I saw something like shame in his bowed face and clenched fists. Oh geez, I thought in horror, feeling the dreaded Guilt gnawing its way through my intestines. Damn that Cullen boy for making me feel guilty about being what I was naturally; a complete bitch. Never before had I felt remotely ashamed of anything that came out of my mouth, but here I was, wallowing in my blameworthiness like some sort of...normal person. Well, it's what I always wanted, wasn't it?

"Look," I asserted tentatively, and he inclined his head in my direction. "I was just... tired, I guess. Of dragging my parents into my messes all the time and them having to clean up after me. Of nobody giving me the time of day at school except to chew me out if I did something wrong-- things like that. I didn't want to be a bother anymore, so I decided to hightail it out while I still had some time left, and start over fresh; maybe tone down the behavior a little bit," I trailed off awkwardly, dropping my eyes to the desk beneath me. I didn't dare look at Edward-- what if he was disgusted? I'd seen enough of that to last me a lifetime. Even worse, what if he pitied me? I'd have to hit him for that, and all this crappy heart-to-heart stuff would go down the tubes.

"Thank you for telling me this," he said softly after a long silence. I stared at him blankly-- why the hell was he thanking me? I hadn't done him any favors.

"You're weird," I told him, ignoring his light chuckle.

And if he knew about the other things...

The bell shrieked, making me start and half fall out of my chair. I scooped up all my other books and hurried out the door, not risking a glance back at Edward.

And if I was walking a little faster than normal, well, whose business was it but my own?

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Edward closed his eyes in relief as he slid into the driver's seat of his Volvo to wait for his family. Another day was finally done with, leaving him free to go over the conversation in Biology with Phil. He fiddled with the radio, envisioning her face when she had confided her reasons for moving to Forks. She had been despondent and resigned, her thoughts murky and barely audible to him. He had caught a few snatches of what she had been thinking every now and then, but it was nothing substantial enought to tell about her interesting personality.

To be frankly honest, he had never been so insulted and amused in that one class period than he had in his entire hundred-odd years of vampirism.

Edward watched Phil bolt to her truck and unlock it before tossing her things carelessly inside. Strange, he had more often attributed this behavior to human males than females. Yet another of her odd quirks.

How...fascinating.

"_Meet Virginia, I can't wait to, meet Virginia, yeah-yeah_," his fingers paused on the radio dial, "_Well she wants to be the queen, and she thinks about her scenes, well she wants to her life, and she thinks about her lies, pulls her hair back as she screams, I don't really wanna be the queen, I don't really wanna be the queen, I don't really wanna be the queen, I don't really wanna live_..."

Edward's lips quirked-- yes, that was just as confusing and contradictory as Phil was. His smile quickly dropped off on his face to be replaced with an uncharacteristic scowl when he saw his siblings coming into view. While this was an everyday occurence, it was the new event that had him suppressing the illogical irritation that swelled up inside him.

Emmett was waving to Phil, and she was waving back enthusiastically.

_Don't be jealous, Edward_, Alice's voice chided him gently. _Emmett and I have always wanted a best friend. He's just a little excited._

Jealous? Ridiculous, how could he be jealous? Of what? Of the fact that it was Emmett who was making Phil smile, and not him? She did look rather pretty in her own way when she smiled. It made her gray-green eyes sparkle and showed the dimple in her left cheek.

Oh. That was what.

_I told you, Edward. You're going to love her; all of us will._

Edward revved the engine angrily, cutting off Alice's mental assurances. No, absolutely not. He would not let himself love Philomena Morgan.

It was better for both of them this way.

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A smidge of angstiness in this chapter, which was sadly unavoidable. Still, I hope this somewhat measured up to your expectations. Stay tuned for next time!

Read and review, please!


	3. Today Is Just Not My Day

Alright now, before you all massacre me with your pitchforks and torches and rubber chickens, let me say this: I was grounded from the computer. As in, mucho grounded, no access whatsoever to the home computer. As I said before, my laptop blocked this website so I couldn't access it from there either. So, I contented myself with as long a chapter as I can manage. I hope you are contented with this one, because I can never be.

_**READ THE WARNINGS BELOW PLEASE!!!!!**_

**Warnings**: Alright kiddies, this is the part where I take the canon Twilight plot that Stephanie Meyer so painstakingly crafted...and throw it to the ground, set it on fire with a flamethrower, dance around it manically while drinking an iced latte, and then crush the ashes beneath my feet while giggling with unseemly relish. I'd apologize, but, well....I'm afraid I'm just not _sorry_. Phil isn't Bella, which I'm pretty sure I've made abundantly clear by now, and as such you will only find the bare bones, picked clean of the flesh, of canon in the fic from here on out.

If none of the above is palatable to you, well... (indicates the top left corner)...there's the back button, right up there. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Sad to say, I had to omit some humor from this chapter and substitute it with plot. I know, I hate me too. But your questions about Phil and whether she was human or not will be answered, so....enjoy? Don't worry, though-- I've got some _good_ stuff planned for the next chapter...(rubs hands together and runs off cackling gleefully.)

Disclaimer: Philomena "Phil" Morgan, her family and pets, are mine. Everything else I'm borrowing from Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series and various other media.

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Chapter 3: Today is Just Not My Day

Blaring rock music roared from the alarm clock next to my ear and I jerked upright sleepily, wincing when Puu slid down my chest and dug in her little claws to slow her descent. I grabbed the kitten by the scruff of her neck and deposited her to the side before sliding out of bed... and losing my footing, to crash to the ground in a heap. Mondays were never very good days, but it was a universal fact that I hated Tuesdays and Tuesdays hated me.

I'll get you for this, Tuesday.

I crawled to my feet and stumbled to the window, groaning out loud when I saw _snow_, of all things, piling up on the ground outside. The funny thing was, I used to love snow as a kid, but now I wouldn't go near the stuff if I could help it. Curses on Mom for not letting me buy that flamethrower off of Ebay...oh well. At least I could take my time and enjoy my breakfast without being rushed. Grandpa and Grandma never got up before eight, so it was up to me to start the coffee and take care of the pets-- or more specifically, the dog.

I trudged into the kitchen, Rosie pattering enthusiastically after me and the cats perched on the back of the sofa in the living room, eyeing the dog with deep suspicion. I opened the back door to the fenced-in yard and the canine shot out like a blur of white smudged with brown to do her business. Closing the door with my foot (and cringing at how cold the damn thing was), I stumbled to the pantry and took out the coffee grounds and cereal. I was all but a zombie in the morning when I got up-- except I wanted caffiene, not brains.

Five minutes later, I stood at the counter, staring fixedly at the coffee pot and willing it to hurry the hell up. I sighed when it didn't comply and turned my head to stare dully out the window over the sink. Snow was still flittering here and there, the sun was half over the horizon...hmmm, look at that, Rosie was in the front yard, wonder how she got there... waitaminute, WHAT?!?

I bolted to the terrace door and wrenched it open, screaming "ROSIE!!" at the top of my lungs. As per usual, she didn't respond, instead trotting down the hill to sniff at whatever the hell was down there. Six foul words that my mother had once washed my mouth out with soap for uttering in her presence spilled from my lips and I took off through the snow in my bare feet and pajamas.

"Coldcoldcoldcold, ROOOOSSIIIIEEE," I wailed, flailing my arms and attempting not to lose my balance at the same time. I was already losing feeling in my toes and fingers, and there was hair in my mouth from the wind. She perked up when she saw me blasting my way through the snow and then I realised my fatal mistake-- she thought I was playing a game. Rosie took off again, straight towards the road; spitting expletives and her name in alternating steps, I followed.

Six minutes later (and the loss of feeling in several of my extremities)...

"Dammit, Rosie!! Spawn of Satan!! Cease! Desist! STTTOOOOOOPPP!!!" I shouted desperately. Not the slightest inclination of slowing down came from that damn dog, who was now running wide circles around the front yard. At least she wasn't going towards the road anymore, I thought in stilted relief, slowing down to double over and catch my breath.

The roar of an engine made me stiffen and slowly look up in dawning horror as Rosie whipped her head around to zero in on the oncoming car.

Tuesday, you need a hobby. One that preferably does NOT involve fudging up my life.

Rosie barked excitedly and flew toward the road at the exact same moment I cried out and bolted for her. I pumped my legs hard, straining to reach out and grab my dog before she became a puppy pancake on the side of the road, the cold morning air burning my lungs as I gulped it in. I stretched my arms out-- her tail was almost in reach, if I yanked too hard I might dislocate it, but it'd be better than--

My foot slipped and I did a spectacular faceplant in the snow. I pushed myself up and saw that Rosie and the car were about to collide.

"_NO_!!" I screamed, shoving myself to my feet and scrambling forward, eyes fixed on my dog that was going to be run over in the space of two seconds--

The car screeched to a halt directly in front of Rosie's yapping head. I stared disbelievingly for a beat of time; my dog was alive. She wasn't dead, wasn't even hurt.

I tore up to the road and snatched Rosie up before she could run off again and take another ten years off my lifespan. She squirmed manically and chewed on my shirt and grunted, but I clutched her tightly and grimly to my chest. I was dangerously close to breaking down in the middle of the street and bawling from relief.

"Are you alright?" a familiar voice demanded, hands seizing my shoulders and spinning me around to stare directly into Alice and Rosalie's concerned faces. Emmett and Jasper hovered behind them as Edward shut the driver's side door and hurried over. I tried to open my mouth to thank them and insist that I was okay, but my teeth were chattering so hard that all that came out was something like, "Th-th-th-th-th-th-th-".

"Of course she's not alright," Rosalie snapped, whipping off her jacket and wrapping it around me. That was really nice of her-- I just hoped that she wouldn't mind if the gnawing creature in my arms turned her teeth to it. "She's barefoot and in shorts in ten degrees below celsius! Her fingers and toes are blue!"

They were? I glanced down and saw that yes, my unfortunate appendages were beginning to turn a rather interesting shade of turqouise. Hmm, that can't be good, I hope they don't stay that way for very long...wait, what was I saying?! I was turning freaking BLUE!! Damn it, Tuesday, I haven't even been awake for a half-hour yet! Cut me some frigging SLACK!!

"Looks like your mutt led you on quite a chase," Emmett remarked, taking in the front yard. I followed his gaze and blinked when I saw that the new-fallen snow was crisscrossed nearly everywhere with dog tracks and human footprints. I frowned down at Rosie, who was testing the sharpness of her teeth on my bare arm (which I couldn't even feel, due to being so cold) and decided to never again buy a half-basset, half-mutt stamina freak. When she was six weeks old, it seemed all she did was sleep and all I tried to do was get her to wake up so we could play. Now all I wanted was for her to go back to sleep and all she wanted to do was play-- the little thing called 'irony' seemed to be coming back to bite me in the ass all too often lately.

"She needs to get back inside," Alice said quickly, brushing snow off of my shirt. "It's far too cold for her to be out here when she's dressed like that."

Really? I had no fucking clue.

"Righto," Emmett boomed, and scooped me up, dog and all. Oh, _hell_ no was I going to be carried-- especially bridal style! I twisted and tried to glare up at him and tried to express my opinion ("N-n-n-n-n-n-" "Can't understand a word you're saying, Phil."), but Rosie picked that instant to grab a mouthful of curls and yank. Hard. I made a muffled noise of pain, unable to form the curse words I so fondly used without biting my tongue off as well as free my hair without releasing the little demon.

Edward leaned over me, gently prying Rosie's mouth open and pulling my now officially mangled hair loose. She turned her head and promptly began to chew on his hand as well, which he didn't seem to mind. He tucked my curls behind my ears carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. I stared back wide-eyed, transfixed with curiousity at the brilliant gold of his eyes. I had never seen that color of iris or even heard of it before...

...but his eyes had been black that day in Biology when I'd stabbed him.

"There," he said at last, drawing his hand back. I released the breath I hadn't known I was holding and hugged Rosie closer. "Take her up, Emmett, before she catches pneumonia."

"Alright," Emmett agreed amiably. "Hang tight, kid."

To what, exactly? I thought dryly as he towed me back up to the terrace door, kicked it open and sat me down on the couch. I released Rosie, who raced around the newcomer excitedly and then chased Puu up a chair in a frenzy of joy.

"You going to make it, little human?" Emmett asked, crouching down to peer at my face.

Feeling had already begun to return to my fingers and toes in a tingling burn, making me grimace and twitch spasmodically. I nodded, feeling Rosalie's jacket slide down my shoulders, and pulled it off, offering it to the giant senior wordlessly. He accepted it carefully and tucked it under his arm gingerly, probably afraid of what his girlfriend would do to him if it came back in any less than perfect condition, and then pulled the afghan from the back of the sofa and cocooned me in it firmly. I blinked at him owlishly from my wrappings and he tousled my hair, his ever-present wide smile beaming down at me.

"See you in school," he said cheerfully and waved goodbye as he took off out the door and down the hill. I stared confusedly at the space he had once occupied, then turned to look at Puu, who had clawed her way up the couch to get away from Rosie and perched herself in my lap. She cocked her head and mewed cutely, the end of her tail tapping the afghan every few seconds.

_Little human...?_

"I don't get them either," I confided, and dislodged her from the blanket by wiggling out of it. There was a hot shower with my name on it in the bathroom, and I still had plenty of time before school started. I was pretty sure I'd used up my bad karma for today.

Shows what an idiot I am that I didn't even bother to knock on wood.

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I pulled into my parking space, killed the engine and slumped in my seat with a sigh of resignation as my eyes wandered over to the gray monstrosity that called itself a school (and that I was reasonably sure was in need of a good exorcising or two, just to be safe). A nice hot shower, two cups of coffee, one bowl of cereal and a note to my grandparents not to let Rosie out into the backyard because she had apparently dug a hole underneath the fence, and I was as good as new. Of course, my classmates weren't exactly going to agree when all the caffeine I had drank kicked in, but that was their problem.

It didn't really help that I had brought along my trusty thermos, filled to the brim with even more coffee and sugary goodness. Hehe, they thought I was crazy now? Oh, they had _no_ idea what they were in store for...

Humming cheerfully to myself, I bounced out of the car and began to make my way around it, before I remembered that I had left my bag in the passenger seat, as well as forgetting to lock the passenger side door. I doubted anyone in Forks penetentiary would have the balls to do anything drastic to my vehicle, but you could never be too sure. With a dramatic sigh, I fished my keys back out of my pocket and went to unlock the door.

My key was halfway into the lock when I felt it-- the lightning burst of dread that crackled up my spine to shock all my other senses into high awareness. I ripped the key loose and turned around, just as the high-pitched screeching of protesting tires against asphalt split the air and an out-of-control blue van spun into sight, coming straight for me. I caught a glimpse of the Cullens' horrified faces directly across the parking lot-- Edward's face in particular had stood out, stark white against the Forks-style background of nondescript gray. I watched him until the van completely dominated my vision, and then... then came the hard part.

Time slowed to a crawl, faces and objects blurring in front of my eyes as the real problem set in.

My skin physically felt like it was _burning_, like it was blistering under intense heat with an extreme case of pins and needles on the side. My eyes felt like they were on fire, like they were melting inside my sockets and I was helpless to stop it. The heat was too much, too _much_, I'd burn myself alive if this kept up-- I grabbed blindly for the sense of the burning and desperately _shoved _at it, willing it to get out of my skin. For a single second, there was nothing, and then...

It _leaped_ crazily out of me, smashing with all the force of a charging bull elephant into the nearest available target: the van.

The vehicle flew back, tires squealing and shredding under the friction, before it flipped and rolled several times until at last it came to a sliding stop on its side at the end of the parking lot, mercifully not squashing anyone else in its progress.

I was free and the burning had stopped. But at the same time, _what had I done_?

"_Fuck_," I hissed, and tore across the parking lot after the van, shoving any gawkers out of the way and kicking shins when they didn't get the hint the first time. Panic had set in and it felt like I was breathing the essence of Terror as my heart jackhammered in my chest. What if the driver had gotten hurt? What if he was dying?

(_please please God let him be alright I didn't mean to hurt anyone I swear it just happened oh God please don't let him be dead because of me_)

I stomped on the foot of one persistent interloper and finally broke through the masses to the car. I raced around to look through the windshield, but it was too cracked and smudged to make anything distinct out. A strangled shriek of equal parts fury and despair ripped its way out of my throat and, ignoring the cries of the other students, I dragged myself up onto the side of the van and crawled to peer into the passenger window.

A boy hung suspended to the side in his seatbelt; I recognized him dimly as a face in the classroom that I had never bothered to look too closely at. I banged sharply on the side of the van, not trusting the already fragile glass to hold up under my fist. To my incredible relief, he opened his eyes and looked up at me. The guy definitely looked like he had seen better days-- glass from his window had given him quite a few slices, judging from the trickles of blood on his face, but it was nothing fatal or irreparable.

"Hang on," I yelled through the glass, "Somebody will be here to get you out soon!"

He nodded, indicating that he had heard me. I breathed out a mitigating sigh and pressed my cheek against the cold metal, the relief so strong I could have cried. Wow, that's twice in one day. I must be getting soft. Maybe a little Jessica Torture at lunch would help reestablish my bitch personality...

A strange sort of popping sound sounded in the vicinity of the engine. I sat up, frowning-- and choked as fire burst into life beneath the hood.

Tuesday, you _bitch_.

People immediately began scattering, screaming things like, "It's gonna blow!" and "Take cover!". Despite the situation, I couldn't help but roll my eyes and wonder just how many brain cells they limited themselves to using a day if they had resorted to stealing lines from old movies. I sobered up quickly and pushed my body off the door before grasping the handle and yanking hard. It didn't budge an inch, probably due to the fact that the door was partially smashed and crumpled in on itself. Great. Just fudging great.

I sat up and rummaged through my pockets, for once finding nothing to aid me. Ho-kay, it was definitely time to start making homemade lockpicks again, and somebody had most likely already called an ambulance, so no dice on the cellphone... I huffed and rolled up my sleeves. There was just no help for it-- especially since the Idiot Brigade had deserted me.

"Cover your head!" I yelled through the window. The boy's eyes widened and he immediately did as I said. Huh, well there's a first.

I drew my fist back and braced myself before driving it down through the glass (thank God the stuff was already cracked to hell and back or I'd have been nursing some serious bruises). It shattered and rained down on the boy's (hmm, I'd have to learn his name too...) protected head, but the gap I made wasn't wide enough for him to slip through unharmed. I grimaced and wrapped my hands around the edges to yank off more glass, ignoring the wide crimson streaks my palms left behind. When the hole had widened enough, I reached my less dinged-up arm through and the guy grabbed on. I towed him up, flinching inwardly as his dry skin pulled at the newly-made cuts.

"Th-thanks," he panted, wiping away the blood that trickled down to his eyebrows from a cut somewhere on his hairline. "I really owe you--"

"No, you don't," I cut in tersely, ignoring the guilt that crept into my belly. First Edward, now some random guy I didn't even know the name of, were making me feel like a little kid getting sent to stand in the corner. What next, Jessica and Mr. Varner?...on second thought, nevermind. "Let's get out of here before we get blown to kingdom come."

"R-right." I dropped his hand as we scrambled away, seeing as he obviously wasn't a baby and didn't need to be led around like a showhorse. Wonder why he hadn't let go as soon as he was out of the van? Bah, who cares, it was probably just the shock or something.

Behind us, the car burst into a nasty-smelling fireball. I hope he didn't have anything like a family heirloom or some other valuable thing in there.

After that, the screaming hordes descended upon us. My eye twitched, but I held perfectly still as we were showered with, "Oh my God are you okay?!", "What happened?", "Oh my gosh you are so brave!", on and on. Yadda yadda yadda, SHUT UP ALREADY, I thought irritably, pulling my sleeves down to hide my bloody arms from sight. A pretty useless effort, all things considered, seeing as the ambulence pulled in right then. I attempted to melt into the background and go back to my truck, but the guy I had pulled from the van grabbed me by the sleeve and dragged me forward to be treated.

Numbskulls, every last one of you, I thought rudely as a medic inspected my arms.

"These are serious cuts, young lady," the medic said at last. "You'll have to go to the hospital, I'm afraid."

Oh, joy. "Whatever," I grumbled, and stood up, remembering just in time not to stuff my hands in my pockets.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, standing up as well and hurrying after me, obviously thinking I was attempting to make a break for it.

"To get my coffee," I retorted. "There is no way in hell that I am going to the hospital without my fucking coffee. You are straight-up crazy if you think for one minute I am going to a stinking hospital without my coffee. So don't even think about trying to stop me."

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Okay, now it was official: I hated everybody. Especially nosy, condescending buttheaded man-bitch medics who don't let you take your coffee with you on the ambulence ride and talk to you like you're three while lecturing you on how 'you shouldn't be drinking coffee because it will stunt your growth' (what growth? I hadn't grown an inch since the eighth grade) and putting makeshift bandages on your arms. Unfortunately for him, I had decided that if he was going to treat me like a three-year-old, I was damn well going to act like one. I sincerely hoped the bite marks on his arms bruised.

While we were on the subject of three-year-olds, that kid throwing a tantrum down the hall really needed to shut up before my brain burst out of my skull and fled the scene. I had a headache like no tomorrow and it really wasn't helping with my perpetually black mood. The boy (whose name turned out to be Tyler) and his repeated apologies for nearly making me a part of my truck permanently and his thanks for saving him wasn't helping in the slightest. If that damn doctor wasn't here within the next five minutes, I was going to walk out and tape up my arm BY. MYSELF. Maybe I'd leave a trail of mass destruction and irreversible trauma behind me, just for kicks and giggles.

"I am so sorry--"

"Just," I hissed, holding up a hand and scrunching my eyes shut, "stop. We've established that you're sorry. That's wonderful and all, but it stopped being so wonderful when you repeated yourself for the _thirty-sixth time_. Now I am establishing this: shut up or I am going to snap and you are going to be the first to go." I threw in one of my more poisonous glares for good measure, and Tyler quickly dropped his head sheepishly. The demon brat from down the hall began screaming even more shrilly, and I buried my head in my hands with a defeated groan. Alright Tuesday, if I said you won, would you screw off and leave me alone for the rest of the day? No? I didn't think so.

The howling died down after another thirty seconds, leaving the room oppressively silent. Maybe I shouldn't have told Tyler to shut up after all; this quiet was making my flesh creep. I thumped my heels impatiently against the floor and watched the door. I couldn't possibly be as badly injured as the coffee-hating dude had said, if they were just leaving me to bleed out all by my lonesome. At that thought, I started to get up out and walk out the door from sheer aggravation, but then sat back down and heaved another sigh. If I left now, I'd have to dodge a whole building full of doctors and on top of that, I'd have to walk back to school to get my truck. Calling Grandpa for a ride was out of the question, as he would make me stay in the doomful white place of people who stuck needles in your arms full of substances of questionable origins and asked you how that made you _feel_... Lose-lose situation, either way.

Besides, my coffee was probably cold by now...

Thirty more seconds ticked past, and I blew out an explosive breath, now bored out of my skull. There was nothing that wasn't nondescript enough in a hospital to hold my eyes for more than a nanosecond or two, which left me with nothing to focus on so I could just tune everything out and daydream. Tyler was glancing subtly (or what he _thought_ was subtly) at me every now and then, so I gave him a flat, despondent stare that told him exactly what I thought of _that_. Finally I gave up and flopped back on the gurney that I had been parked on, staring up at the ceiling, which wasn't much more interesting than the walls. White, white, and more white...blech.

"You know, I never got why they paint everything in the hospital white," I confided in Tyler, who stared at me with a 'huh?' expression plastered on his face. "I mean, hospitals are supposed to be a place you go to get better in, right? How can anyone get better in all this disgusting antiseptic smell and this glaring white _nastiness_?" I demanded, crossing one leg over the other. "Maybe they should paint it blue-- like a robin's eggshell blue. That's a pretty color, and it makes people happy, don't you think?"

"Yeah...right," Tyler mumbled, no real conviction in his voice. I bit my lip, feeling miserable. Another failed attempt at socialization. Why is it that I couldn't talk to anybody, even when it was about fairly normal things like color?...Okay, it was nearly always more than partly my fault, but still. In a school of three-hundred-odd (both literally and figuratively) students, you'd think I'd find one person who wouldn't look at me like I was something that escaped from a cross between a mental facility and a zoo, or treat me like a shiny new toy that everybody wanted. But _no_.

Gah, this was so depressing.

"_Freude, __schöner Götterfunken__, tochter aus Elysium_," I sang softly to myself, bouncing my leg in time with the beat. I ignored Tyler and the incredulous look he shot my way-- he already thought I was weird, so I may as well give him some straight-up proof. "_Wir betreten feuer-trunken, himmlische, dein Heiligtum_--"

"What is that?" Tyler cut in.

"Beethoven, symphony number nine," I said flatly. "Now stop interrupting. It's not as easy as it looks, tuning out morons like you."

"Huh?"

I gave him a pitying look. "Exactly," I confirmed, and then went back to singing. "_Deine Zauber binden wieder, was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen werden Br__üder, wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt._"

"It's been quite a while since I've heard that in German." I sat up and turned to the door, and saw an exceedingly attractive blond male doctor crossing the threshold of the room to stand before me, two people who were obviously Tyler's parents (judging by the way the woman attempted to suffocate him by shoving his head in her bosom) hurrying in after him to collect their son.

"Well, Tyler, you're a very lucky young man," the doctor announced, consulting the clipboard in his hands. "The cuts you recieved from the glass were shallow and purely superficial, so there shouldn't be any scarring. Just remember to keep them covered in order to avoid infection, and you should be fine."

Tyler mumbled assent and slouched after his parents, pausing to wave goodbye before he slunk out the door and I could get the chance to wave back. I frowned a little after him-- was everyone in Forks either completely dense or completely oblivious to rudeness? Damn, that meant I would be spending a few more weeks shaking off all the idiots that seemed to collect wherever I went.

"Hello, Phil, I'm Dr. Cullen," the doctor said warmly. Ah, so this was Edward's father...wonder if he knew that I'd stabbed his kid with a pen? Then again, there were no guarantees that he _didn't_ already know and was now making plans to murder me brutally with a scalpel and a bag of cotton balls. I gauged the distance from the gurney to the door and decided that if I got a decent head start, I could outrun him until I was in the receptionist's office, at the very least. I'd be relatively safe there-- receptionists hated it when you got blood on the carpet.

"Hi," I said blandly, twitching my leg back and forth. He reached out and gently took hold of my right arm, the one I had punched through the glass with, and inspected it carefully. Well, there was no scalpel or syringe of questionable liquid in his hands-- maybe he was just hiding it in his coat?

"That was a very noble thing you did," Dr. Cullen said quietly, gently swabbing my cuts with some antiseptic and cotton balls.

"Not really," I muttered, dropping my eyes. How was it noble when it was my fault in the first place? Sheesh, Doc, get a clue.

"Ah, but it was," he insisted, a smile curling up at the ends of his lips. "There are not many who would risk themselves for the lives and safety of another."

I shifted uncomfortably, wishing he would stop trying to make me out to be a heroine. I cleaned up my mess and covered up the truth (as usual), but I was not noble, not heroic, and definitely nowhere near the person he was portraying me to be. Dr. Cullen must have noticed the look on my face, because he maneuvered the conversation down a different route. One that was, while a welcome change, almost as uncomfortable as the first topic.

"My children were very worried about you," he stated lightly, golden eyes bright with some kind of inadvertant mischief. I eyed him warily, wondering just what it was he had up his sleeve and would it make me run screaming into the night from terror. "All of them have skipped have skipped out of class and are sitting in the waiting room, along with half the school."

Hold the hamburger phone, _what_ did he just say?

"...W-wha?" I stuttered, thrown completely off balance. There was no way this was possible-- Emmett and Rosalie _might _have come, and _maybe _Alice and Jasper as well, but Edward? No matter how much better we were getting along, there was no way he was here. The good doctor obviously needed to go out and count his kids again.

"Oh, yes," Dr. Cullen said conversationally, before touching a particularly long and nasty scrape down my right forearm. "This one's going to need stitches, I'm afraid. You were lucky-- you just missed the vein. And this one as well," he amended, indicating a shorter scratch on the back of my arm.

"Crap," I muttered, meaning both the Cullens and the stitches. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he affirmed.

"Double crap," I grumbled, withdrawing my arm and scowling at the crimson gashes. I hated (and, by proxy, was scared to death and back again of) needles-- especially when they were being jabbed into my flesh without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Am I wrong in supposing you are not a fan of needles?" the handsome doctor said mildly, prepping a syringe carefully.

"I suppose you might be right," I confirmed dryly. It struck me then that I was having an actual conversation with someone without the usual insults and barbed comments that I usually deployed, and that it was actually civil and fairly enjoyable.

"You wouldn't be the first," Dr. Cullen said comfortingly. "Lie back, please." I obliged, offering up my arm when he reached for it. As soon as the needle was lowered to my skin, I looked away. Squeamish, yeah, I know, but I couldn't bear to see the fluid being emptied into my veins. There was only a little discomfort, for which I was relieved.

"There," he said kindly. "You should start feeling it in the next five minutes or so. Would you like to talk while you wait? Some patients find it soothing to speak while the numbing is taking effect."

"Sure," I assented, shrugging a little. To be honest, I was more than a little pleased with our talk and didn't want it to end quite yet. Hell, I might even grow some social skills out of this. Nonetheless, I was not going to let him pick the topic, which would most likely lead us to his kids and my relationship with them. "Why don't I tell you why I'm scared of needles?"

"Go on," he prompted, leaning forward.

"I was about ten or so, and I'd gone to the dentist to get my wisdom teeth pulled," I started, recalling it with a faint shudder. "Everything was going fine until the time came to put me under. The dentist was trying to give me whatever the heck that stuff was, but he missed my vein about two or three times, and that really hurt. When I looked over to tell him to stop it, I saw the blood on my arm. To my credit," I said wryly, remembering the doctor's and nurses completely apologetic faces, "I didn't throw a screaming fit, but I did start crying. The nurses wrapped my arm in hot towels and gave me a blanket to make my veins bigger, and that did the trick. The operation went off without any other hitches, but I've never liked needles since. Not that I ever did in the first place, but you get the idea."

"I see," Dr. Cullen concluded, comprehension in his eyes. "It must have been very frightening for you."

I snorted, feeling my head swim slightly. "Piffle. It wasn't that big of a deal." I poked my arm experimentally, humming Beethoveven's ninth once more to myself. "I think the stuff is kicking in."

"Very well," the doctor conceded, moving closer and extending the needle towards the tear in my skin. "Why don't you keep talking so you don't have to look? Just try not to move your arm too much."

"Alright," I agreed placidly, focusing on the ceiling. "What do you want to hear about?"

A little voice in my head that I ignored a little too often murmured _whoops, bad move_. Too bad I was a little too high on the stuff he gave me and could barely tell up from down.

"Did you know that you were all my children talked about for the past week?" Dr. Cullen asked, shifting my arm to a better position. I blinked at the ceiling hazily, turning his words over speculatively in my head without really hearing them.

"You'd think there were more interesting things to talk about than the psycho girl," I told the ceiling without any real heat behind my words. I heard him chuckle quietly and resisted the urge to turn my head and look.

"They find you very interesting," he assured me. "I've never seen Rosalie act so matronly toward anyone in my life. Even Jasper seems very taken with you, though I can't quite tell yet."

"Edward doesn't like me, even if he is polite about it," I argued irritably. Why was Dr. Cullen making me out to be some sort of sunshine-fluffy-clouds-smiley-pink-happy person when I was, incredibly obviously, _not_? I was a **bitch**. B-I-T-C-H, that was me to the core, and I was not going to change, not no way and not no how.

"Doesn't like you?" There was a definite ripple of laughter in the doctor's voice. How annoying-- there was also a clear tone of I-know-something-you-don't-know rising to the surface. "My dear girl, wherever did you get that idea?"

"Since he gave me that constipated glare of his in Biology and I stuck him in the arm with my pen." I snapped my mouth shut, cursing my random foot-in-mouth syndrome for all it was worth. REAL smart, Phil, telling the doctor stitching up your arm that you stabbed his son with a writing utensil. And just what kind of flowers did you want at your funeral again?

"Yes, Edward told me about that," he said, mildly reproving. I cringed inwardly and waited for the rebuke-- or worse, the stab.

It didn't come. I chanced a quick look at him and looked away immediately when I saw the needle enter my flesh. In my opinion, there's pretty much nothing in the world that is creepier than watching someone sew your skin together and not feel a thing.

"You're not mad?" I said tentatively at last.

"No, child. I'm not angry with you," Dr. Cullen said quickly. "I was merely thinking of something unpleasant."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. There we are," he proclaimed suddenly. I sat up and looked down at my arm, noting the flesh was hewn back together practically seamlessly and the other scrapes littered across my hands and arms had been carefully bandaged. "Good as new! I've called your grandfather, so he should be here any minute. However," the doctor gave me a stern look at this, "you need to take care of your hands. No more death-defying stunts, understand?"

"It's not like I stand in the middle of the freeway with a neon sign over my head saying 'Hit me, I splatter!'," I complained, springing from the gurnery and practically dancing toward the door. Free! Free at last, from the terrible smelly hospital with ugly colors and the cursed needles! I'd even take the possessed Forks Penetentiary over this nuthouse.

"Your grandfather said for you to stay in the waiting room until he came," Dr. Cullen called as I shot down the hall. I made a face, but slowed down and turned where the sign indicated the lounge was. Okay, I wasn't out of the hellhole just yet, but I could wait...I think.

"Phil!"

I turned and a blur of black and purple collided with me, knocking me off balance. I yelped and pinwheeled my arms frantically, but a set of hands grasped me around the waist before I could fall and righted me. Alice grinned at me, her golden eyes dancing as she stepped back to take my face in her hands and turn it from side to side. I gave her a dry look, noting distantly that her hands were as cold as Edward's had been yesterday. To my surprise, I didn't even mind that much that she was touching me. As a rule, I didn't really care for it when people I barely knew initiated bare skin on skin contact, and generally endeavored to make that dislike plain-- hence Mr. Spork and the self-defense lessons I had taken as a child up until recently.

"We were so worried about you," Alice explained, releasing my face. "We saw the car go up in flames from the other side of the parking lot, and we--"

"I'm fine, Alice," I assured her, bemused at her sudden burst of unanticipated affection. Most likely she was just relieved that I wasn't a sliced-up charcoal briquette. "I just got some cuts from the glass, and your dad fixed those in less than ten minutes. See?" I held up my hands and twiddled my bandaged fingers, which she giggled at. "No harm done."

"Come on, let's let Rose have a look at you," she declared impatiently, grabbing an uninjured space on my arm and towing me in what I assumed was the direction of the waiting room. Of course, she could be taking me to the morgue because she was secretly in cahoots with Edward and they were going to stuff me in one of the cabinet-thingies where I would slowly freeze to death while they laughed the trademark Evil Villain's Laugh With Personal Variations©. But I did like to give people the benefit of the doubt every now and then-- except if they were from the government, because the government LIED and it was all one big CONSPIRACY.

Before I could work myself up into going on an internal rant, Alice dragged me into the waiting room and all but threw me into Rosalie's stone-cold arms. Jeez, did anybody in this family wear a jacket? And they had been worried about _me_ getting frostbite...

"Are you all right? Are you in pain, Carlisle did give you something for the pain, didn't he?" Rosalie demanded, taking me by the shoulders and inspecting me from head to toe, brushing stray curls back from my face. I blinked, wondering what was with the touchy-feely business today. On the other hand, it was kind of nice; mostly my parents had had a 'live and let live' kind of attitude, which meant they didn't fuss a whole lot whether I was either in pain or in trouble. It would take wild horses on steroids to drag that little tidbit out of me, though.

"Rosie, give the girl some air," Emmett laughed as I automatically looked back and forth on the floor, half-expecting to see Rosie (the dog, not the girl) barrelling underneath the chairs and chewing up magazines. I took the opportunity to duck out of Rosalie's grasp-- or attempted to, in any case. Her arms were like steel cables that kept me locked in place, making my eye tick dangerously; what did this girl do every day after school, pump five hundred pounds of iron? Rosalie scowled and released me reluctantly while I endeavored not to make a big show of rubbing my poor abused ribs. Damn, but she did have a grip like an octopus-- except she only had two arms and no suckers.

"I told you she was fine. You should know better than to doubt me," Alice informed Rosalie huffily. The statuesque blonde snorted and put her hands on her hips challengingly as she leaned forward. My You-Are-About-To-Be-In-Deep-Shit-If-You-Don't-Move-NOW! alarm went off in my head and I immediately backed up as fast as I could.

"Even you can be wrong sometimes, midget," Rosalie retorted. Alice's eyes sparked dangerously, and within seconds a whole war of insults began that zipped back and forth in between them as I looked from one to the other, following the derogatory terms and rude suggestions like I was watching a ping-pong match. I probably should have taken offense at the 'midget' comment, but I hadn't been this entertained since I had watched my mom and Alan wrestle with each other on Thanksgiving night (both of them were somewhat...inebriated). Mom won, of course, though to this day Alan protested at the top of his lungs that she had cheated.

"--microscopic speck on the back of a flea!" Okay, that one hit a bit close to home, I thought as I witnessed Alice's eyebrow tick menacingly.

"Prissy, fluffbrained plastic Miss Piggy look-alike!" Oooh, ouch, that one had to sting, I reflected wryly when Rosalie's eyes narrowed.

I tore my eyes away from the rapidly growing spectacle to see if Jasper and Emmett were going to rein their girlfriends in to stop them from tearing each other apart. When I saw the men in question, I sighed and dragged a hand through my hair in frustration of the idiocy of the male sex.

They were taking bets. Morons. If I was an anime character, I would have facefaulted and had a big huge sweatdrop hanging next to my head by now. Regrettably, I was a real girl and I had to deal with real life problems. Damn, what a drag.

A familiar thermos of coffee came into view from between the gaps of my fingers over my eyes. I dropped my hand to see Edward offering it to me with a tiny crooked smile on his face. Oh my God, play the Hallelujah chorus, that was just what I needed! At the moment, I couldn't have cared less that this was the guy who most likely hated my guts and wished I would vanish off the face of the Earth entirely. He was giving me my coffee and that was all that mattered.

Yeah, I was a caffiene addict. What about it?

"You," I told him in a voice full of conviction as I took the thermos from him and cradled it reverently, "are a lifesaver." Suspicion immediately reared its head when I went to take a drink, and I stopped and looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "How did you get this?" I asked carefully, eyeing him and the thermos alternately in caution. So help me God, if he had tampered with my caffeine in any way, there wouldn't be enough pieces to scrape together to have a funeral with when I was through with him.

"I heard you shouting at the paramedic about your coffee from across the parking lot," Edward told me, his grin widening slightly. "Since you'd left your car unlocked, I took the liberty of retrieving it for you. Don't worry, I locked it back up after I left," he added when he saw my expression.

"Ah," I said in relief, then took a draught of caffeine. It was a little chilly, but I didn't mind overmuch.

"You've been having one hell of a day, huh kid?" Emmett mused thoughtfully, "First Edward almost runs over your dog--" the aforementioned male scowled at this, "then you almost get smushed by a van, and then you go around punching out the windows of that van...you've got some kinda luck."

"It comes from my mother's side of the family. Sadly enough, it skipped over my brother and sister, which they think is completely hilarious," I said dryly, and tipped the thermos back to catch the last of the coffee, frowning when there was no more left. Emmett laughed and Jasper cracked a grin at my expression of consternation. Edward, however, didn't seem to share their viewpoints, judging by the clenched fists and jaw he was sporting. I frowned as our eyes met-- he looked angry again. _Now_ what did I do?

"Why did you do it?" he demanded abruptly. Alice and Rosalie fell silent at Edward's harsh tone and turned to give him almost identical stern glares; he paid them no attention.

"Do what?" I snapped, bridling with budding indignance. Hey, I couldn't help it! It just seemed like every time he opened his mouth, he either confused or irritated the hell out of me. "I've done a lot of things this morning. Be specific."

"Go after the van like that. You could have been hurt; you could have been killed!" the golden-eyed boy snarled.

"Oh, so it was a bad thing to try and save somebody's life?" I snarked sarcastically, feeling the anger and confusion well up inside me. The buzzing underneath my skin began to pick up again, stirred from this morning, but I slapped down on it with everything I had. I couldn't afford to do this twice in one day. "I'm sorry, I'll make sure to pass the memo around next time. After all, we can't have people being _saved_, oh no!"

"Don't be so mordant," Edward shot back, striding closer. I refused to shrink back and glowered up at him instead, shifting my leg to a better position in case he invaded my personal bubble and I had to demonstrate why my bubble must always be held in the highest respect. "I want to know why you felt you had to do it."

(_because it was my fault you dumbass my sin my crime my weakness why can't you see that?_)

"What, you thought the Idiot Brigade had things under control?" I snorted derisively. "Puh-lease. They couldn't find their own butts with both hands and a map."

"You're avoiding the question," Edward pressed, golden eyes boring into mine.

"I gave you an answer, didn't I?" I pointed out. "Therefore I did not avoid the question, which is meaningless anyway. I did it, end of story. Goodnight. Goodbye. Have a nice day. Would you like fries with that?"

"Just," he hissed, "stop." He reached out like he wanted to grab me by the shoulders and shake me, and a surge of panic swept through me at the familiar movement. I automatically skipped back and raised my arms defensively. Edward stopped, a pained look flashing across his face, and carefully withdrew. "Just tell me why," he pleaded, and at his tone my anger gently dissipated into a soft whirl of nothingness. How was I supposed to say mad at him if he said it like that?

"Edward," I said hesitantly, his name heavy and foreign on my tongue. "Why do you _care_?"

Silence hung thickly in the air and I waited for his response, half-hoping and half-afraid of what it would be. Edward seemed frozen, lips barely parted and eyes staring desperately into mine, like they were imploring me to understand what he couldn't speak. He took a breath, and a spasm of pain passed over his face. Without thinking, I dropped my arms and stepped forward to--

"_**Here's a llama, there's a llama and another little llama, fuzzy llama funny llama, llama llama duck!**_"

Hello, Bad Timing, how nice of you to drop in. I haven't seen you since, oh, I don't know... 20 minutes ago? How have you been?

"_**Llama llama cheesecake llama, tablet brick potato llama, llama llama mushroom llama, llama llama duck!**_"

I drew my phone out of my pocket and flipped it open, and then grimaced. My sister's name, **Lissy**, stared up at me accusingly, reminding me that I had bigger issues than a spat over...what was it over, anyway? Hell if I knew; maybe Edward would tell me when he was past the incoherent stage and actually making sense again.

"_**I was once a treehouse, I lived in a a cake, but I never saw the way the orange slayed the rake, I was only three years dead, but it told a tale, and now listen little child, to the safety rail!**_"

"Excuse me, I have to take this," I muttered, and left the room in the direction of the bathrooms.

After having to double back because I was going the wrong way, I found the bathroom and locked myself in a stall after checking to make sure no one else was present and eavesdropping. I pressed a button and held it slightly away from my ear in case she decided to start shouting. It wouldn't be the first time, after all.

"_Phil! Are you okay? I just got a call from Grandpa_--"

"No one's here, Lissy," I said flatly.

"_Oh, good,_" she said, clearly relieved. "_Seriously though, are you okay? The damn thing cut out on me before it finished-- it just showed the van flipping on its side and then nothing_."

"I'm fine, I just got a few scrapes," I assured her, rolling my eyes and settling against the wall.

"_Scrapes, huh?_" There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a sucked-in breath of aggravation. Uh-oh. "_So that's what you call stitches these days-- don't roll your eyes at me, I saw that!_"

There was only one thing more annoying than a know-it-all big sister-- a sister who really _did_ know it all. Though Lissy was a great help in Algebra, and advice like, "Watch out for Robby Klane in third period, he'll try to trip you when you walk by," was generally appreciated (I'd worn steel-toed boots that day and stepped on his foot as I'd walked past), whatever deity that gave my sister the power of astral projection along with foresight and hydrokinesis had a sick, sick, SICK sense of humor.

Here's the thing: my dad's family, the Morgans, had special strands of genetics in their DNA that give them all psychic powers. No one really knows the origins of it, or who the original progenitor was, or anything along those lines. All we know is that we have it and while sometimes it gets passed on, sometimes it doesn't (not nearly often enough for everyone's peace of mind, though). Generally, when someone from the paternal side of my family married and had a child, the kid usually had only one talent, say, telekinesis or telepathy. And they were good with that.

Of course, Dad just _had_ to be the one who would go and break the norm when he married Mom. My mother had latent automatic writing skills and retrocognition; combined with my father's radiesthesia, it had produced some completely out-of-whack results in the form of my sister Lissy, my brother Alan, and myself. Lissy and Alan each had three talents; I had two, which was two more than I had ever wanted in the first place. Psychokineses that couldn't be brought to heel in the slightest and claircognizance that didn't kick in unless I was about thirty seconds from death or severe injury wasn't exactly what I had put on my Christmas list to Santa.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my brother and sister and my parents. However, it did frustrate me from time to time to see all of them use their psi talents so easily while I struggled to keep from blowing the roof off the house on most days. It was one of the more private, shameful reasons I had wanted to move to Forks. Hey, I'm not a jealous person by nature, but I knew my limits and when I was about to cross them.

Aside from the whole psychic thing, my family was actually pretty normal. I mean, sure, Mom always knew when I hadn't done my homework, Alan could tell me where I'd left my car keys last night without even needing prompts, and Dad could tell exactly where I was at without even looking up from the paper. But those were regular parts of our daily ritual, which was just as normal to us as being asked to pass the butter. All the same, we hardly ever had guests over.

"_Have you been meditating lately?_" Lissy demanded sternly. "_That's why your control is so bad, isn't it? You haven't been meditating._"

I dragged a hand through my hair and blew out a sigh of annoyance. "You know damn good and well that meditation never helped me one bit. It made it _worse_, Lissy. I am not going to meditate, understand? Not in Forks."

"_Oh, so, what, you're going to just pretend it doesn't exist?_" she said scathingly.

"Worked so far."

"_NO! That isn't healthy! You have to stop denying the gift you've been given!_" Lissy bellowed down the line. I gritted my teeth and held the phone away from my ear, glaring at it with considerable irritation. Honestly, there was no need to _shout_...

"You've been reading those cheesy psychiatry books again, haven't you," I stated point-blank, narrowing my eyes. " 'Denying the gift you've been given', indeed."

Lissy (Alyssa when we were with our great-aunts) was still as much a drama queen as ever, despite being a twenty-nine-year-old divorcee with a seven-year-old son. She was always the most enthusiastic of our family about our powers-- Alan and I were a whole lot mellower about the psi talents we had. She saw her powers as a blessing; well, good for her. She didn't need to expect the rest of us to view them that way, though.

"_Don't be so prejudiced, it's what they are! Gifts!_" she concluded angrily. Her self-righteous tone grated on my ears, making me clutch the phone more tightly and the thrumming to surface again. I tried counting to ten, but the old anger-management try didn't do much for me. The last vestiges of control left me and I just plain didn't _give a fuck_ anymore

"Gifts?! What gifts, the gift for throwing a car across the parking lot?!? That's not a _gift_, Liss, that's a _curse_!" I whisper-screamed down the phone. The stall doors blasted open and began rapidly slamming themselves, and the paper-towel dispenser rattled warningly on the wall. I didn't even bother trying to make them stop this time. "I'm not like you and Alan! I can't control it, and if I try, _I'm going to kill someone!_ Just face it already-- the only thing it's good for is _blowing something up!_"

"_If that's what you think of it, that's how it's going to be_," Lissy whispered mournfully. I ignored that and breathed in deeply, trying to calm myself down. I thought of icebergs, lilacs in spring, playing fetch with Rosie, the scent of rain, the little fountain in my room, coffee brewing in the morning, the rustle of pages in a book, my piano waiting for me at home....

Gradually, the doors shuddered to a halt and I breathed easier-- and suddenly, I was as exhausted as if I'd run a marathon or three. I just wanted to go home and curl up in bed and forget about everything, especially including anything regarding Edward Cullen and psychokinesis.

"Later," I said curtly, and pressed the End Call button before she could protest. I was undoubtedly going to catch hell for that when she got around to calling me back, but I didn't really care at the moment.

I stepped out of the stall and looked in the mirror, making a face when I saw that my hair was a bird's nest and my eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. Combined with my newly sewed-up slices, I was Frankenstein Reborn: Punk Style. I did my best in flattening my hair, not even bothering with my face, and then swept back outside.

Edward was leaning against the wall in the hallway, staring intently at the door I had just exited. My paranoia senses hit the roof screaming at the top of their lungs and I froze in place as his eyes bored into me.

_Uh-oh_.

Had he been out here while I was throwing my little psychic temper tantrum? Shit, shit, shit, not good! I bit my lip and schooled my face to a blank expression, willing myself to remain calm and not go on a _Carrie_ psycho spree to get away from Edward and his piercing I-see-your-filthy-SOUL eyes.

"The men's bathroom is that way," I told him shortly, pointing to the left of the women's restroom. He smiled benignly and I fought the urge to backpedal and take off in the other direction as fast as possible. There was something just a little too knowing for comfort in that smirk of his.

"Were you alright in there? There was quite a bit of noise earlier," Edward asked in polite concern. Or it had better have been.

"Oh, yeah. My sister and I got in a fight, and I took it out on the stall doors," I explained, giving him my best charm-filled I-am-innocent-and-you-can't-do-a-damn-thing-about-it smile. I sure as hell wasn't going to say _oh, that was just my out-of-control psychokinesis blasting through, don't mind it, it will only kill you if I get too pissed off_. Not exactly the greatest reassurance I could offer.

"I see," he said quietly, 'I don't believe you in the slightest bit' clearly prominent in his tone.

"You damn well better not have, you dirty bathroom-peeper," I warned him. Insulting his decency seemed the best way to go when I needed to distract him. Hey, I had no shame, remember?

His eyes tightened and his smile began to take on an annoyed edge. Good, maybe that would teach him to butt out of other peoples' business.

"Call it odd, but I heard several stall doors slamming at the _same time_."

Then again...

"That's the nature of a temper tantrum, Edward," I informed him dryly, expertly covering up my uneasiness. "It isn't confined to one space; it goes _everywhere_."

"I don't believe you," Edward told me, leaning forward menacingly until we were almost nose to nose. Oh, no. Oh no, he _didn't_ just invade my _bubble_. Of all the fuckery he could he have gotten up to, he had chosen invading my personal space? There was no way in hell I was going to stand for that.

Edward Cullen was going _down_.

"Here's the funny thing, mister," I chirruped, giving him a poisonously sweet smile, "I don't give a flying _fuck_ in space what you believe."

His eyebrows rose; well, it was better than nothing. Why couldn't the fool just take a hint already? Pretty soon I'd have to start taking drastic measures, and Grandpa wouldn't be happy with a repeat of the Velveeta incident. Actually, now that I thought about it, nobody would be very happy about it; that smell never went away.

"You're hiding something," Edward accused quietly. I rolled my eyes at him in exasperation. No shit, Sherlock. All the same, keep your magnifying glass to yourself before it gets shoved up a certain unnamed area of your anatomy, please and thank you. And don't think I won't.

"Edward, _everybody's_ hiding something. There's something wrong with you if you don't in this day and age," I retorted irritably. "Whatever it is I may hide-- and mind you, I'm not saying I am-- is absolutely none of your beeswax. Extend that courtesy to me, and I will extend the same to you. After all," I murmured, tilting my head back challengingly at him, "there's not many families that have the same golden eyes and cold skin-- especially if they're supposedly all related through adoption. Right, Edward?"

Ah, there was just something so immensely satisfying about the way he took a step back and goggled at me with a completely poleaxed expression. Ha. He didn't find it so amusing when the tables were turned on _him_, did he?

"How did you..." Edward trailed off, looking furious again. For cripes' sake, was he bipolar? Just pick an emotion and stick to it, already!

"I'm psychotic, not oblivious, Edward," I said calmly. Well, actually I was just taking a shot in the dark, but whatever worked. "I wasn't even going to bring it up until you started in on this crap. So listen here," I snarled, enthusiastically latching on to the opportunity to release some frustration. I grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him down so his face was level with mine, forcing him to bend down at an awkward angle due to our drastic height differences. "Stay out of my business, or else your business will become mine. And you're _really_ not going to like it when I poke my nose where it doesn't belong. Capiche?"

Edward said nothing, staring down at me with some kind of fascinated shock in his golden eyes. I guess no one had ever done the equivalent of backhanding him in the face and telling him what was what before. I took his silence for agreement and released his shirt; he withdrew slowly, rubbing the back of his neck cautiously.

Guilt made a return trip to my stomach at the thought that I might have hurt him; I did my best to ignore it. After all, it was more than likely that _he _would have tried to hurt _me_ if he knew the truth. Sadly enough, I liked Edward (asshat though he was) and his family. I wouldn't have minded being friends, but that was probably a slim to none chance now that I had made an allusion to their Dread Secret. Whatever that was.

People would get so ridiculously touchy about certain things-- you just had to learn where to poke and how hard. Unfortunately for Eddy-boy, I had years of experience in that particular area under my belt.

"I'm so glad we had this talk," I said with mock brightness, audaciously reaching up to pat his cheek condescendingly. His eyes darkened back into to anger and I bit back a smug smirk. Honestly, if he was this easy to rile up, I could forgo the whole 'friends' issue and kick him around like a soccer ball all year.

A little voice in my head commented that that might be misconstrued as sadism. I sternly told the little voice where to shove it and smiled widely up at Edward before fluttering my fingers in a sardonic farewell and turning my back on him to return to the waiting room.

I could almost _hear_ him fuming behind me.

And so the games begin, I mused as I strolled down the hallway. Let's see how Edward Cullen likes the ones with _my_ rules.

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Edward Cullen stood inhumanly still, his mind wiped blank from shock as he stared after Phil's retreating form. It seemed to be a reoccuring theme whenever they met, now that he thought about it. He shooke his head to snap himself out of his daze, his brain chasing after the new discoveries that were flittering around his skull.

This wasn't what the vampire had expected when he'd followed Phil to the bathroom in hopes of overhearing her phone call. _Gifts_. What did the woman on the phone mean when she said 'gift'? Phil hadn't seemed to appreciate the title however, from the way she had spat it out and relabeled it as 'curse'. What was it about these 'gifts' that made that furiously animalistic tone of loathing surface in her voice?

Perhaps...these 'gifts' were of the same category as his own family's? It was a distinct possibility. He hadn't heard Phil move from when she had been shouting down the phone, and yet she claimed she had been running all over the bathroom to batter at everything in her anger. It was something he could easily picture her doing, but all the same...

Edward had caught the scent of lightning that seemed to arise whenever the young girl's wrath was stoked. And come to think of it, he had smelled it again earlier today, when the van had almost...

The thought of Phil's small body crushed cruelly underneath the van's bulk made his throat tighten unexpectedly-- partially, he admitted shamefully to himself, at the thought of her sweet blood spilled so carelessly across the pavement.

But Tyler's van had apparently collided with something that had thrown it back when it had drawn so perilously close to Phil, and that something had sent it flying back with enough force to destroy the automobile. There was nothing that strong, except for another vampire...

Once again, however, Edward had to bring himself back from his imaginings by reminding himself that Phil's heart still pumped blood and she still possessed all capabilities of breathing. That did not, however, mean that she wasn't something else... a werewolf? No, she was much too small, and the terrible stench that followed all of their kind was absent from her. What _was_ she, then?

In his memory, gray-green orbs glittered warningly. _Stay out of my business, or else your business will become mine._

Unfortunately, Edward was curious about the tantalizing secrets Phil kept tightly locked away from the rest of the world. Surely he could find out what they were without too much fuss? She had nothing, nothing at all to convict his family of vampirism, only her own suspicions, surely--

Horrified with himself, Edward dragged his thoughts away from that track. Where had his consideration for his family, for Carlisle and Esme, his beloved parents, gone? Where had the devotion to the safety of his siblings gone to?

What had that girl _done_ to him, he wondered, a stirring of the old resentment from last week raising its malignant head in his chest.

Edward remembered with an uneasy jolt the ease with which the girl had managed to pull him down to her level to hiss her warning in his face, and even further back when she had stabbed him with her pen. He knew perfectly well the strength it took for a vampire to be moved, and it was well beyond any human's capabilities. Perhaps there was some weight to her carefully veiled threats after all.

Well, curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back, he thought with grim amusement. Edward could only hope that satisfaction would be enough in this case. Next time, Phil might not be so kind as to use a pen when attempting to inflict damage on his person. He wouldn't put it past her to keep a samurai sword underneath her bed.

Edward sighed, and bid farewell to boredom and peace-- presumably for a long, long time.

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Bah, I don't like this chapter, but it needed to be written and gotten out of the way. That said, stay tuned for Chapter 3: Tomorrow Doesn't Look So Good Either! Have no fear, I won't make you wait for it as long as this one, I've graduated high school and I'll have some free time-- for a while, anyway. I promise, it won't drag like this one. (scowls grouchily and pokes at the chapter in disgruntlement) I swear, I started out well, but I don't know where I went wrong...

Anyway, on a more random note, I picked out two songs for Edward and Phil that depict (or will, in the near future) their feelings for each other. Here they are!

Edward: Just The Girl by Click Five  
Phil: Get Tangled Up in Me by Skye Sweetnam

Read and Review, please!


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